"You're up early."

Remus swept the fringe out of his eyes and peered over at Tonks.

"I thought I'd stop by the Ministry today," he said, as the steamy richness of his coffee invaded his nostrils.

Tonks's pink lips parted softly. "You're going to apply to a job there?"

"Maybe."

He looked away and took a scalding sip. Tonks tilted her head and adjusted her scarlet Auror robes on her shoulders and sat down at the table, staring intently at him.

"Why are you going to the Ministry, Remus?"

"I need to check in with the Beast Division," he lied, his thumb grazing the grainy table's surface. "I also thought I'd ask about the updated, loosened restrictions."

"I wouldn't get your hopes up," said Tonks quietly, wiping her runny nose with her sleeve. "I know the restrictions are being lifted, but I don't want you to be disappointed. I doubt the Ministry would hire you."

Remus cleared his throat. "It doesn't hurt to try."

Tonks smiled thinly and closed her small hand around his. "If you're sure . . . and I reckon it's better for you to come today. If they give you any trouble, ask Toby to send a memo. He was an old mate of mine from school. He'll help."

"Thank you." Remus overturned his palm and intertwined his fingers with hers. "You're going to St. Mungo's after work?"

"Mum's making me go. I had to take a half-day to get this appointment." She shook her head and scoffed. "I told her it's just a stomach bug, but she thinks it could be something else."

Frowning, Remus took in his wife's appearance. She was peaky, and her eyes drooped sleepily, but it was early in the morning. Neither she nor her mother had slept well since Ted's death, contributing to their haggard appearances; at least Andromeda had convinced Tonks to see a Healer.

"You'll be home for dinner?" asked Remus.

"Unless something is terribly wrong. If that's the case, though, none of us will be home for dinner."

Remus rolled his eyes and sighed. "Don't joke about your health. Your mother would be devastated if something happened to you."

"And you wouldn't?" Tonks's eyes sparkled as she put her hands on her hips. "You wouldn't miss me?"

"Nymphadora," Remus said softly, his voice breaking. "I love you. I would do anything, anything at all, to keep you safe and well. You are . . ." He struggled not to divulge his plans, to tell her she would be free of him by the end of the day. It would break him when she finally saw reason. Swallowing his anticipated grief, he extended his palm and felt Tonks's hand in his again. ". . . you are very dear to me."

"Oh, Remus, sweetheart." She got up from her side of the table and wrapped her arms around him. "I love you so much. Don't you worry. I'm not going anywhere." Remus melted into her heavenly touch; he held onto the faintest hope, shining through overwhelming terror, that she would still want him.

But no one would want him, he reminded himself—not if they had a choice.

Tonks's watch whistled more insistently. She groaned, letting her hair fall around his face.

"Time to go," she murmured, tugging on his sleeve, pulling him toward the fireplace. He handed the pot of Floo powder back to her when she offered it and frowned. "You won't go through the Floo with me?"

Remus shook his head. "I've got to use the visitor entrance. They wouldn't want someone like me showing up without going through the proper channels."

Tonks pulled him up by the front of his robes and pressed her lips against his for a quick kiss. "I'll see you for dinner. If I feel better after St. Mungo's, maybe you and I can . . ." She winked and Remus's heart fell to his feet. She wouldn't want to do anything with him, not when she had the option to—

Tonks let him go, and with another quick kiss, swept into the fireplace to get to the Ministry. Remus could feel still her warm lips on his and could smell her honey floral scent on his clothes. He couldn't delay any longer, however, and went up to the steps outside Grimmauld Place to Apparate away.

Vibrant green grass surrounded Sirius's newly purchased, white-brick farmhouse in Devon. Its brown thatched roof sloped gracefully toward the entrance, where cheerful blooms adorned the walk. Two figures were bent over, with charmed piles of dirt flying over their heads and into the surrounding pots. Upon further inspection, Remus noticed Sirius outside with Harry, each of them elbows deep in greenery.

"This suits you," said Remus, feeling the thrum of magic against his fingertips when he opened the kissing gate. Sirius looked up, a streak of mud splattered across his forehead, and grinned.

"Moony," said Sirius, nudging Harry to stop repotting a plant, "care to join us?" A bushy head of brown hair and two redheads popped out of the front door.

"Sirius, wherever did you get this?" asked Hermione, setting a rare Wiggentree sapling down. "Professor Sprout said they're almost impossible to find outside of her greenhouses!" She looked up and spotted Remus. "Hi, Professor!"

Ron and Ginny were there too, both of them freckled in the sun. Ron set his plant down, a baby Venomous Tentacula, which snapped playfully at him. He threw himself on the grass with a harrumph and inched away from it. Ginny laughed and settled herself between Ron and Harry, who beamed at her, looking entirely too much like James.

"Hello Hermione, Harry, Ron, and Ginny," said Remus, smiling despite himself. "How have your holidays been?"

"Better now that Harry and Sirius are here," Ginny replied cheerfully. "There's enough land and it's close enough to the Burrow that Mum doesn't worry as much when we come over."

"Which has been every day since I bought this place," touted Sirius, straightening from the ground.

Remus looked down at all the sweaty, happy faces. He briefly wondered if he could find a place at the farmhouse, helping Sirius with his newfound hobbies. An expansive magical garden was well underway, and a makeshift Quidditch pitch had been set up for Harry and his friends, though Remus suspected Sirius enjoyed it as much as the teenagers did.

"What brings you here, Professor?" asked Hermione. "How are Tonks and her mum doing?"

Remus touched the stiff parchment sitting in his robe pockets, thinking only of Tonks. "They're doing as well as can be expected. I came to speak with Sirius, if you'll let me borrow him."

Sirius's grin faded. He put a hand on his hip and scrutinized Remus. Without breaking eye contact, he spoke to the others. "You lot don't mind if I take a minute inside, do you?"

"Let's fly!" Ron scrambled up on his feet. Harry and Ginny shot after him, while Hermione looked down at the sapling and sighed.

"You'll be all right, Hermione?" asked Remus.

"I don't like flying," she explained, tying her messy hair up. "I'll be much happier here. I'll watch the others play."

Sirius shrugged and led Remus inside to the kitchen. It was a bright, airy space with wooden countertops and white cupboards. The kettle was on and a plate of sandwiches sat atop the expansive dining table, which was littered with textbooks, quills, and pots of ink.

"I've been helping them with their summer homework," said Sirius, nodding at the mess. "Snape's going to be their new Defense professor—"

"Severus Snape?"

"Do we know another?" Sirius scowled and prepared two cups of loose leaf tea. Remus took one and sat back at the table, aghast at Dumbledore's decision to hire Snape. "Slughorn's back to teaching Potions. I haven't been given all the details, but I'll be damned if Harry isn't ahead of Snape's little plans."

Remus gaped at him, his mind fumbling over the news. Before he could learn anymore, Sirius propped his feet on top of the table and cracked his knuckles.

"Why are you here, Remus?"

The temperature in the sunny kitchen seemed to have dropped several degrees. Remus felt churning in his stomach but reached into his pocket and brought out the freshly prepared roll of parchment he'd procured that morning at the Ministry. Sirius stretched out his arms and took the parchment, unfurling it in one hand as his other brought his tea to his lips.

A few tense seconds passed as Sirius read through the proposed change. Faint laughter streamed in through the open window, and happy shouts of a caught Quaffle. Hermione called up at Ron, reminding him of the magical boundary, while Remus looked upon the notes strewn across the table, written in his former students' hands.

Sirius cleared his throat and took his feet off the table, planting them firmly on the ground. He leaned forward and set the guardianship papers aside.

"Do you need an additional guardian?" Sirius's voice was low and tight.

"No," replied Remus, keeping his gaze averted from his friend's. "You would be replacing Tonks."

"Did you discuss this with her?"

"I'm sure she will be fine with this."

"That's not what I asked."

Remus sighed and ran his fingers through his silver hair. "I don't need to discuss this with Tonks. I'll tell her that you'll be my new guardian, which will give her the option to—"

"To leave you."

"Yes." Remus turned to find Sirius, his lips pressed together and his brow knit. "I want to give her a choice."

"Is this what she wants? To have . . . a choice?"

"She will appreciate the gesture," Remus replied curtly. "It's for her own good."

"Her own good," Sirius repeated flatly. "You believe that Tonks, who is head over heels for your pitiful arse, will want to leave you?"

"No," Remus lied. "This is for my benefit."

"You're testing her?"

"No, of course not . . . I'm just making sure that . . . that she wants me . . . for me."

Sirius breathed forcefully through his nostrils, flaring in the same way as Andromeda's did. Remus felt small under his gaze, but held it steady, willing his resolve to stay in place.

"I'll sign it on one condition."

Remus sat up, his back ramrod straight. "Anything. I'll do anything."

"You don't need to do anything. Tonks needs to come here and talk to me."

"Pardon me?" Remus's jaw slackened. "You want her to talk to you?"

"I want to discuss this with her myself," said Sirius, tapping his wand on the parchment, which rolled it up tightly. "I'll sign it, but only after I get her opinion."

"I don't think that'll be necessary—"

"On the contrary, I can't think of anything more necessary." Sirius took the parchment and tucked it into his robes. Arching his brow, he continued, "Unless you've changed your mind?"

A flicker of fear shot through Remus's heart. This was not how the conversation was supposed to go; he was going to secure Sirius's signature and guardianship, giving Tonks the option to separate from him and return to the life she led before they met. She would be free of her obligations to him, and once she realized that mere feelings kept them together, she'd come to her senses.

Sirius's ploy was not at all in Remus's plans, but if Tonks was sensible . . .

"I'll let Tonks know to stop by before dinner," Remus said finally, sensing an impasse. "She's got an appointment at St. Mungo's. If it's just a bug, as she calls it, she'll have time to come here before dinner."

With a whistle, an owl came swooping in from the other side of the house. Sirius scrambled around the table and found blank parchment, a quill, and ink, pushing the materials at Remus.

"Write her a letter," Sirius urged. "I'll sign it so she knows I'm expecting her."

Remus paused, quill in hand, droplets of ink blotting the parchment, but wrote a quick missive to Tonks to ask her to see Sirius after her appointment, should all go well. Sirius signed it and tied it to the owl's waiting leg. It ruffled its feathers and flew out, becoming a dot in the distance.

"Padfoot," Remus said quietly. "If Tonks chooses to go another way—"

"You can come live here. The local Muggles think this farmhouse burned down. That's all they see. It's an illusion—and it won't be hard to convince them it's haunted. Transform here, live here, but don't go off to find werewolves. You're more useful alive than dead."

"Thank you."

It was all Remus could muster before he left for one more meeting.

Dumbledore's blackened, withered hand was stuck out unnaturally, grotesque against his velvet periwinkle robes. Remus's gaze lingered on it, an itchy feeling in his throat distracting him from forming a new thought.

"It's a thrilling tale, Remus," said Dumbledore, turning the blackened hand over. "But it is not for us to discuss today."

"Yes," Remus said, blinking up at Dumbledore's icy blue eyes. "I came to ask if you were still interested in recruiting werewolves." Dumbledore's merry expression dampened slightly.

"Perhaps. Is your wife in agreement with your mission?"

"I don't know that Tonks will be my wife for much longer."

A deep frown looked back at Remus. Dumbledore didn't say anything, but he didn't need to, not with the disapproving gaze in his piercing eyes.

"I can't be certain . . . but with the changing laws, Sirius agreed to be my guardian. I would no longer need to be married to be free from the Ministry's restrictions on werewolves. Isn't this what we planned, just a year ago?" The words came tumbling out of Remus's mouth. He hadn't been this honest with anyone but himself. "Once the restrictions were lifted, Tonks and I would separate. She's been denied a promotion at work. Her family have suffered. She'd be better off without me."

Dumbledore sat back and ran his good hand through his long beard. "Is that so?"

"It has to be! She needs to be free of me and my curse! She's young and healthy and deserves someone whole and uncomplicated! It's time for this charade to come to an end!"

Remus hadn't realized it until his body hit a whirring, silvery contraption, but he had stood out of his seat and begun pacing around the office. His hands were in his hair, pulling it, and several Headmasters' portraits were jeering down at him. Dumbledore sat in his chair, patiently listening, not a single muscle moving in response to the outburst.

"I've always been too old, too poor, and too dangerous for her! Dora—Tonks—deserves so much better, Albus! Can't you see that?" Remus smacked his fist against a stone pillar. "Why can't anyone see that?"

"You care for her, don't you?"

Remus tore his gaze from the wall. "Of course I do," he growled. "I love her. I want her to have a wonderful, happy life. I can't be in it."

"Does Mrs. Lupin feel the same?"

"It . . . she . . ." Remus groaned. He wanted to fall to his knees. If he couldn't convince Dumbledore, he had no hope of giving Tonks the life she deserved.

"Love is a precious thing, Remus," Dumbledore said calmly. "To love and be loved—is that not what we are fighting for? Love is the hope we have to keep going. If you love your wife, and she loves you, why couldn't you build a life together? It may not be what either of you envisioned, but is life not worth living, even if it is not as we planned?"

Remus gawked at the Headmaster, the man who had given him a chance at the tender age of 11, to try for a normal life. The man who had bestowed upon Remus the chance at friendship, learning, and magic, insisted on continuing the sham with Tonks.

"Go home to your family. Unless Mrs. Lupin tells me herself that she no longer wishes to be married to you, I will not cast you out to the wolves. It is cowardice to run from what is worth fighting for." A shudder tore through Remus's body. He had always been a coward; even Dumbledore could see it.

Then a blue, ethereal shape bounded into the office. Sirius's huge dog Patronus leapt in front of Remus, standing on all fours, and opened its snout.

"We need to talk. Don't delay."

The Patronus disappeared and Dumbledore glided toward the fireplace. He held out the pot of Floo powder, looking suspiciously cheerful at Remus's message.

"I believe you're needed elsewhere, Remus."

Wanting to argue, but not having anything else to say, Remus wished Dumbledore a brief goodbye and stepped through the fireplace. He spun around, snorting out ash from his nostrils, and felt two hands grab the front of his robes. As soon as his eyes adjusted to the light, Remus found himself face-to-face with Sirius, whose eyes gleamed with fury Remus hadn't seen in years.

"You fucking bastard—"

"What the—"

"She's pregnant, you insufferable twat, and you were going to leave her—"

"WHAT?"

"Don't play the fool with me," Sirius growled, shaking Remus like a rag doll. "You found out you're having a kid and you're abandoning your wife."

"Sirius, put me down!"

Remus fell back hard against the floor. He was covered in soot and his sternum ached. His hands came up to rub his chest as he coughed up the last of the ash in his throat.

"Start—start from the beginning," Remus coughed. "Tonks isn't—she can't be—it's impossible."

"Improbable," Sirius barked. "Not impossible. She was just here, happy and hopeful, until I showed her your changed papers. Burst into tears. Told me everything."

"Stop taking the piss," Remus said, his voice faltering. "She can't—can't—"

"She is." Sirius's fists were balled at his sides. "And once she's through with you, I'll be taking what's left." A ball of crumpled parchment appeared at Remus's feet. It bore the St. Mungo's emblem, and it was wet in the corner. "Read it," Sirius ordered, kicking it up to Remus's face.

He opened the parchment, scanning it hurriedly. Tonks's name was clearly printed, along with a brief record of her stays at the hospital, with a final result given for that afternoon's visit. In no uncertain terms, Tonks was pregnant, and an abomination would be born in the spring, if the line reading "refused termination" was anything to go by.

Remus had created a monster. He would deserve any punishment the world deemed fit to give him, and would see to it that he could never ruin anyone's life again.