Soft, pliable earth lay under Remus's feet. It felt good to be back in the Forbidden Forest, where he and his friends had enjoyed moonlit romps in their youth. He was alone, and the moon was high in the sky. He took a deep breath.

A bird began to sing. Ears perking up at the sound, Remus trotted through the willowy trees to find the songbird. He didn't usually have an interest in birds, but it sounded pleasing, and he hoped it would draw others to him as well. He couldn't say why he hoped this or why he felt he was lower on the ground than usual, but his height diminished as he blazed a trail across the leafy undergrowth. The bird continued singing, and Remus followed, his heart thumping as he grew closer to his target.

Perhaps it will be a rabbit, he mused, feeling his mouth water at the thought of tender, fresh meat. He grew lower still, and curiously, he was on all fours, his belly low, his eyes trained sharply up at the bird. He huffed quietly and spotted his prize: a large, curiously pink rabbit was pawing up at the tree with the bird, unaware of its soon-to-be grisly end.

Remus leapt forward, reaching the rabbit just in time to clamp his jaw around its furry neck. Hot blood poured out, and as he sunk his teeth deeper, a horrifying scream interrupted him.

The songbird in the tree was no bird at all. It was Andromeda, his mother-in-law, wailing and thrashing against Remus, pushing him away from the rabbit.

It was then that Remus saw what he had done. Where the rabbit had been, Nymphadora lay, her neck ripped to shreds, gaping, oozing blood as Andromeda howled. He tried to speak, tried to move, but he was stuck in mud, watching Nymphadora take one last, sputtering breath—

"No, no, no, no, no—"

Remus sat up, his heart pounding in his chest, and reached out to the other side of the bed. His sweaty hand found Tonks's bare shoulder beside him. Moonlight streamed through the window, bathing her in its light, her limp brown hair sticking to her face and pillow. She snored softly and turned over, showing off the expanse of a perfect, unharmed neck.

The nightmares are getting worse.

There was something Tonks was keeping from him. Since the day he'd overheard the conversation between Sirius and Tonks, he grew ever more anxious that she was staying with him out of pity, and she'd receive a gruesome death in return. He'd declared his love and she assured him she'd stay, baring his soul to her in the most honest way he could. He'd almost thought he could've believed her.

But then the lie of omission would rear its ugly head in his mind, nullifying whatever she'd promised. There would come a day when one of them would make a fatal mistake, he'd attack, and she'd be nothing but a pile of blood and guts and—

Remus's ears perked up suddenly. A distinct, deep sob reached him. He turned his neck slowly, seeing Tonks still asleep on her side of the bed, the tips of her hair going through various shades of blues and purples as she dreamt.

"If it's not her, then. . ." he muttered, pressing his hand down on the mattress. His sheets were soaked through; his pyjamas were no better, drenched in his sweat and making him chilly. The least he could do was change into dry clothes.

He got out of bed and hobbled to the wardrobe. His grunts were punctuated by inconsistent sobbing noises and the distinct sounds of something being ripped apart. His sheets were still moist and his wand wasn't available. He'd have to find a new place to sleep or interrupt what he hoped was merely a ghoul's nighttime aria.

Listening carefully for the wailing, Remus took the stairs one at a time, holding the banister tightly for support. He'd yet to do this unaided, but the anguished, ever-louder sobbing from downstairs disturbed him. If it wasn't a ghoul, he'd settle for Kreacher or even a poltergeist. As he got closer to the source of the crying, he blinked repeatedly, sure he was hearing incorrectly.

The sounds had to be coming from Regulus's room, which had been charmed locked the day Sirius came back to Grimmauld Place. It was the only room in the house that was to remain untouched and uninhabited, frozen in time for a boy whose face Remus could scarcely remember. There could be no doubt that the room was occupied: a faint light appeared along the slit in the door, interrupted frequently by agitated, shaky shadows. Whatever was inside the room was moving and howling.

Remus padded quietly, ears trained on the door, and when he got close enough to look inside, he stupidly said the first thing that came to mind.

"Sirius?"

The wailing stopped at once. Grey eyes looked back at Remus through the slit in the door and then it swung wide open, revealing the last man Remus had expected.

"Moony—"

Sirius scrambled backwards. A heavy locket fell out of his robes and onto the floor with a clang. Remus rubbed his eyes, startled by what he saw around him. There were feathers everywhere, papering the walls and ceiling. Several pillows and the duvet were ripped apart. The walls were shredded too, by look of the claw marks and scratches, with bits of newspaper and green decorations in scraps across the floor.

"What are you doing here?" they both asked.

"You shouldn't be on your feet," Sirius said quickly, rubbing his palm across his wet face. "Sit down." He cast a charm on the bed and the feathers flew back into their pillowy origins.

Remus couldn't argue. He shuffled, leaning on Sirius for help, and sat down on the edge of Regulus's bed. "I heard, er, you? Crying?"

Sirius's hand came up to rest on the tattered wall. Remus noticed a strange, blistering mark around the hand, like a chain had been burned onto his skin. Sirius cleared his throat, sniffling heavily, and looked away.

"Is everything all right?"

"No, it's not," Sirius said, choking. "My brother was an idiot."

Remus's brow shot up. Sirius hadn't mentioned Regulus in years; the Potters were still alive when Remus last heard of Regulus Black.

"Your brother . . . Regulus?"

"Fuck," Sirius put his fist over his mouth and shook with silent tears.

Feeling awkward and out of place, Remus glanced at the heavy locket. It was silver and expensive-looking, with a serpent engraved on it.

"I can't—can't tell you—" Sirius snatched the locket from the floor and stuffed it in his pocket. "You didn't see anything."

Remus held his cane and nodded, wishing he had his wand. He wanted to feel useful and clean up the feathery carnage left after what he assumed was Sirius's mournful rampage.

"Give me a moment," Sirius muttered. He turned around and conjured a wad of tissues, blew into them, and vanished them on the spot. With his tears seeming to be at bay, Sirius began piecing the room back together. Feathers flew back into their pillows, the wallpaper fixed itself, and the shattered mirror was rearranged, returning the room to a pristine, emerald green sanctuary, complete with walls devoted to old cuttings from The Daily Prophet, which seemed to have been selected as a chronicle to the rising terror of Voldemort before his ill-fated encounter with the Potters.

"I hope I didn't wake you."

Remus shook his head. "I had a nightmare. I wouldn't have come down if I'd been able to go back to sleep right away."

"It's been a long night." Sirius was still turned around, his palm flat on the newly mended wall, his shoulders rising and falling with shuddering breaths. "This won't be the last one like this."

"Order mission—"

"A Dumbledore task," Sirius replied, cutting him off. "He was there. So was Harry. I can't say much else."

"Because I'm too bloody fragile, aren't I?"

"No—" Sirius turned around and shoved his hand into his pocket, pulling out the heavy locket again. "It's because this—and where it was—Dumbledore doesn't want anyone else to know. It's why I came here after we—" He cleared his throat harshly. "I couldn't tell Kingsley or Andy. Harry's at the Burrow. Everyone's fine. Dumbledore's being a prick about it."

The grandfather clock in the hallway rang thrice as Sirius finished his cryptic explanation. Remus yawned, feeling his exhaustion return.

"You should go back to bed," Sirius said gruffly. "I'll help you up."

"No . . . I can't."

A storm came over Sirius's face. "Why the fuck not?"

"I'll sleep in my old room. It's closer."

"Your old room is where I stored my mother's furniture. It's not available." Sirius puffed out his chest and glared, looking ominous and imposing against the regal emerald of his brother's bedroom.

"Then your old room," Remus replied feebly. "Any room on this floor will do."

"No." Sirius stared Remus down and balled his fists at his sides. "What are you avoiding?"

Remus tried to glare in return but Sirius wouldn't back down; he felt his resolve crumbling.

"Sirius," said Remus, gripping the edge of the bed tightly, "what's going on with Tonks?"

Sirius's eyes narrowed. "What are you asking me?"

"I heard you—that day you brought Harry and Ron here. You asked if Tonks had told me yet." Remus let go of the bed and his hand came up to rub the back of his neck. "She said she hadn't. I know she's keeping something from me."

Sirius frowned. He uncrossed his arms, closed his eyes, and sighed. His voice was much gentler as he spoke this time. "It's something you need to hear from her, mate."

Remus swallowed the little pride he had left. "She's going to leave me, isn't she?"

"What gave you that idea?" Sirius replied, looking offended by the suggestion.

"What else could it be?" Remus bent his head forward and let his face drop into his hands. "I don't want her to be miserable. I've got you and the others . . . I'll be fine, really. If Dumbledore will let me, I'll help with whatever you're doing. I told Tonks how I felt. She knows I love her but she still won't tell me the truth. Why wouldn't she tell me if it wasn't bad news?"

Sirius seemed to be fighting with himself. The heavy locket fell out of his pocket and he kicked it away, snarled at it, and sat next to Remus. His voice still heavy, he said, "This is what I'll tell you so you stop being such a ponce. Tonks has got an opportunity—it's a good thing, before you ask. She wants you involved with it."

Remus's brows jumped up into his forehead. "Is it related to her work?"

"I'm not going to tell you. That's for Tonks alone to do."

"Fine," Remus scowled, "keep going."

"It's risky, this opportunity. It'll mean a big change—for both of you. She doesn't want to go it alone." Sirius tilted his neck back and forth, scrunching his eyes with the movement. "She's scared. She wants to take this opportunity with you—only you. She's afraid of losing you—or that you'll leave because you won't be able to handle it. She wants this more than she wants her job, her reputation, or anything you think she should care about more than you."

Remus looked down at his legs. The worst of his injuries were healed, but there would be new scars, proof of what he'd done to himself.

"Moony—for once in your life allow yourself to have what you want. We're not kids anymore. You're not being stupid for wanting her. You're being stupid for believing she couldn't want you back. Just this once . . . believe her. Believe you can have this. If my brother could've defied—done what he did, you can pull your head out of your arse. Take a bloody minute to close your eyes, imagine what you want, and let yourself believe you can have it."

Remus opened his mouth, but Sirius brooked no opposition. "Do it. Picture you and Tonks and a pet rabbit, all happily living on some cottage where she plays music too loud and you read her those dreadful Dickens novels. Think of everything that woman has done for you and tell me it's all been a lie. You won't be able to because you'd be lying to yourself."

Though it seemed childish, Remus closed his eyes and really tried to imagine all his dreams coming true.

Tonks was his wife, not because she pitied him or was doing him a favor, because she wanted to share her life with him. Everything she'd done in the past year—and especially in the last few weeks—had been out of love. From the gentle way she held his face to the tenderness in her gaze when he regained some of his old strength, she loved him. He thought of Tonks's delicate freckles and kind, heart-shaped face. He was worse off than when they'd met a year before; he was more broken, poorer, and his health was ever more precarious.

Yet she stayed through the ugliness and pain. Tonks stayed.

No one had ever stayed like she did. He'd given her every reason to walk away. She could have left him, not for being a werewolf, but for causing her so much grief, and yet she was at his side, giving him the life he always wanted.

To think I almost threw it all away.

What felt like embers inside him grew, the heat of the guttering flame growing rapidly to a bonfire that threatened to consume him; it felt like the moment Dumbledore came to his home on his eleventh birthday and asked if he wanted to go to Hogwarts. It felt like the day he found his friends studying to become Animagi for him.

It feels like hope.

Remus felt a shiver down his spine. "Whatever the opportunity is," he said, voice cracking under the tumultuous emotions overtaking him, "it'll make her happy?"

"Yes," Sirius replied instantly. "This opportunity has the potential to make both of you happier than you've ever been . . . but it's going to be hard, Moony. You will have to put aside every instinct you've shown so far. All she wants is for you to stay with her and take a chance. She's planning on telling you after the next full moon, once you're stronger."

Prospects whirled through Remus's mind. Maybe Tonks wanted to quit her job and leave the country; he would happily relocate with her and learn a new language. She could have heard of a new, experimental treatment for lycanthropy. He'd risk his life to improve it—if there was even the tiniest chance he could be cured, he'd take the risk. Maybe she'd been hurt after terminating the pregnancy—though he couldn't offer her a biological child, he'd do what he could to adopt or find another way for her to have the child she wanted.

"Remus! Remus, where are you?" Tonks's harried voice echoed in the stairwell.

Sirius lifted a single, judgmental brow at Remus before poking his head out the door.

"REMUS!" Tonks shouted. "REMUS! WHERE ARE YOU?"

"He's here," Remus heard Sirius say. "He's fine."

Tonks burst through the door, her cheeks deep pink and her chest heaving wildly.

"I was so worried! You could've left a note! I thought you—you—"

"I heard an unusual sound," said Remus, feeling Tonks's arms wrap around his torso. "I didn't go far."

"Next time," Tonks replied, holding him tight, "leave a note. You scared the shit out of me."

Remus saw Sirius mouthing "I told you" from the side. Tonks's heart beat loudly against Remus's ear; he recalled the worry he felt for her, when she was sick or injured, and tried to imagine she felt the same for him.

There had to be a word stronger than merely love, because the adoration he felt for her, just by her concern for him, was enough to render him speechless.

"We need to get back upstairs," he heard her say, and then felt her hands in his, helping him up with the cane. He was in a daze, entranced by her dark, twinkling eyes and messy head of hair. If she really loved him and wanted him, no matter the cost—

"Are you okay?"

"Hmm?"

Remus was almost startled that he had returned to their bedroom. His side of the bed was damp, and upon noticing this, Tonks cast a Drying Charm on the sheets and summoned a dry, clean set of pyjamas from the armoire.

"Was it too warm up here?" she asked, taking his shirt off. "I can cast a Cooling Charm. I noticed you've been sweating more." She got to her knees and rolled down his trousers, while he sat and stared dumbly at her like a lovestruck schoolboy. He was redressed and still staring at her when Tonks cast the charms to cool the room.

His mouth caught up with his mind when he saw her begin to move back to her side of the bed.

"Tonks, wait," he murmured, his fingers twitching up at hers and his heart rate increasing erratically, "can I kiss you?"

Her eyes went wide and her jaw fell just slightly. "You want to kiss me?"

Remus held her gaze, grasping at the hope of a future with her. He grabbed one of the posters on the bed. "If you'll let me . . . I can't stand for long."

Tonks came to him, her hair in a disarray of golden yellow and vibrant turquoise, and tucked what she could behind her ears. He leaned on the poster for support and planted his feet on the floor. His free hand found its way to her waist, pulling her closer so her body was flush with his. He closed his eyes for a moment, imagining this was his future, years of being able to hold his wife in his arms and kiss her whenever he could.

He stole a glance in the mirror; he was still bruised and battered, but he wouldn't let that stop him. He exhaled lightly and lowered his mouth to meet hers.

Lips met lips. Tonks's were as soft and pillowy as he remembered; her teeth nipped at his lower lip, tugging it gently, which spurred him to moan loudly against her. Her hands came up to his neck, fingers trailing up through his hair, and he mewled, her touch rousing his body.

How he'd missed her.

His knees gave out at the wrong moment and he fell back into the bed with a defeated thump.

"I'm sorry."

"No, don't be—" Tonks climbed into bed and helped him sit up. "That was nice. Really nice." Her hair mellowed to an ocean blue and daffodil yellow. "What happened down there?"

"Sirius went on a mission—"

"I was talking about you," she said, interlacing her fingers with his. "You seem . . . different."

"Dora, I know you've been keeping something from me." Tonks's hair and face drained of its color. Her mousy brown locks returned and her cheeks went pale. "I don't know what it is and Sirius wouldn't tell me. What he did say . . . I want you to be happy. I can wait for you to be ready. Whatever it is . . . I want to be with you. I'm sorry I haven't been good to you. I want to be better."

Tonks fiddled with the drawstrings on her pyjamas. "You're not going to be happy."

"As long as I'm with you," said Remus, bringing Tonks's hand to his lips, kissing it, "I'm happy."

"You see . . . you've made a lot of progress. I don't want to derail you."

"Take your time, then," he urged. "I know I've disappointed you. I'll do whatever it takes to make you happy. You're the most wonderful thing that's ever happened to me, Dora. Whatever you want, I'll give it to you . . . I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I don't want to hold back anymore."

A wrinkle appeared between Tonks's brow. "Listen—I've got work in a few hours. Can you hold on a little while longer?"

Remus readily agreed, glad to begin the next stage of their relationship with a renewed sense of trust.