Footsteps
Title: Footsteps
Author: parapsionic
Rating and Warnings: PG-13 for mild sexual references and swearing.
Prompts: A day of destiny, romance or action/adventure, the giant squid, location prompt #36 (picture of a man and a woman’s shoes).
Word Count: 9,094
Summary: He has always known, somehow, that she would end up walking into his life and changing its course. The early stages of Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks’s relationship, as explained by the different kinds of walking.
Author’s Note: I’d like to thank ishandtwofourths on FF.net and mocca_fix_gold for looking this over. :D This story only covers OotP, mainly because it was turning out to be longer than I expected and there isn't enough time to write about HBP and DH, lol! The passage about the giant squid is slightly reworded, but still swiped from the HP Lexicon. I’m not sure if the giant squid is really mentioned in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, so I hope that the liberties I took with it are okay. I’m quite nervous about this, since it’s my first fic here! Concrit would be greatly appreciated. :)
Footsteps
(n.) a step with the foot; a step on which to go up or down.
I. Tiptoe
(v.) to move or go on tiptoe, as with caution or stealth;
(adj.) eagerly expectant.
He knows what will happen before it does.
Her arms flail wildly in the air, a little squeak of panic escaping her lips as she pitches forward and plummets rather ungracefully towards the ground. Remus Lupin’s eyes widen, the heavy tome in his hands abruptly forgotten as he prepares to dive to her rescue. He knows he has made a foolish mistake when it falls on his feet with a loud thud, rendering him incapable of performing any kind of saving. He grimaces and holds back a yelp, and as his toes protest under the weight of the massive book, he finds himself looking down into a pair of dark eyes.
They belong to a woman with spiky pink hair, who lies on the floor with the blush on her cheeks evident even in the dimly lit hallway. An awkward silence passes between them as they exchange uncomfortable looks. Remus manages to remember how to be a gentleman after he picks up the book from his feet, so he extends a hand to help the newcomer. She gratefully reaches for it, and as her fingers brush his, he feels something stir at the warm touch of her skin. The fact that there is a meeting he has to go back to (and Dumbledore needs the book on giants he had just fetched from the library) slips from his mind.
“Thanks,” the woman says, and while she straightens herself up and tries to remove the creases in her clothing, Remus gets a few moments to study her profile. Her bright, short hair stands out in contrast to the dark blue of what look like Ministry robes, and he catches a glimpse of what she wears under them - a loud, green t-shirt with the slogan The Weird Sisters emblazoned on it, and a pair of jeans with the holes in them artfully designed. Her eyes meet his again, and this time, Remus feels a flush blooming across his cheeks because she has caught him staring - no, observing. An uncertain smile appears on her face, and her dark eyes sparkle as the blush caused by her grand entrance fades.
“I tried to come early, I really did!” she rushes to explain, her hands making wild gestures as she points to the rug beneath their feet and the troll leg umbrella stand that lies toppled behind her. “But I got held up at work because Scrimgeour wanted a word, and Kingsley, git he is, left without me!” The words tumble out of her mouth, and all Remus can do is nod at her as she babbles on without acknowledging him.
“Not that I couldn’t have come here by myself. I did! I’m an Auror, for Merlin’s sake!” she cries. “Anyway, I’ve already been here before, and Moody himself was there to show me around. There wasn’t a meeting then, and it’s just my bloody luck that the first time I have to attend one, I’m late and I make a spectacular display of my clumsiness. But it’s not my fault! I tried to tiptoe in so I wouldn’t disturb everyone, but I didn’t even notice that thing was there!” Remus takes this break in the conversation as an opportunity to attempt to understand what she is going on about.
His eyebrow arches of its own accord as he wonders what to make of the absurdity of the situation: here is a young woman who looks as though she should be heading to a rock concert after work, and not a meeting in a spooky and depressing old manor in the middle of London. She, in all of the fire and light she exudes, definitely looks out of place in the gloominess of Number 12, Grimmauld Place. And there is also the umbrella stand that she speaks so vehemently of, as though it is entirely to blame for her stumble. His gaze travels upon it. It does look innocent enough and is probably the victim of the new girl, he thinks wryly.
“It’s just so… dark and creepy. I should’ve expected my relatives to be that disturbing, what with using a troll’s leg to house umbrellas...”
Relatives? Remus thinks, his brain doing a poor job of trying to catch up with what she is saying. Wait until you see the stuffed elf heads.
"...I mean, okay. Did you see it there?” Her tone is almost accusatory, and Remus bites back a chuckle. "Wait..." she pauses, her eyes growing wide, "It's not your umbrella stand, is it?"
“It generally just likes to fade into the background,” he says after a moment of consideration. “Nobody really goes out of their way to pay any special attention to it. Well, until you came along…” he trails off, the laughter he fights hard to restrain beginning to surface.
She grins, which is the opposite of the reaction he expects. “I always told Moody and Kingsley that I’d be the one to spice things up over here. And all they did was laugh at me! I knew I’d prove them wrong,” she declares, wearing a smug expression.
“Indeed,” Remus replies. “I must say, we need as much ‘spice’ as we can get to keep things from getting deathly dull around here.” The words leave his mouth before he can think better of them, and he inwardly cringes at the stupidity of his statement. Spice? How lame can you get, Lupin?
The grin on her mouth turns devilish. “Then you’ve got the right woman for the job. I’m Tonks.”
He takes the hand she offers and shakes it, embarrassment still clear in his countenance. “Remus Lupin.”
The moment their hands touch for a second time, a sort of eager expectation fills him. He quickly thinks better of it. There is something about this young witch - Tonks - that makes him want to run screaming in the other direction because her boldness, both in deed and how she carries herself, shakes his normally stable footing. Yet it is that same boldness which also roots him to the spot. He knows something is wrong with him when he realizes he feels like the troll leg umbrella stand, knocked over unexpectedly by the tornado unleashed by a certain witch called Tonks.
II. Traipse
(v.) to walk or go aimlessly or idly or without finding or reaching one's goal.
He knows who it is the moment he hears her footsteps outside the door.
Remus ignores the little thrill of anticipation that courses through his spine as the doorknob turns. He sinks deeper into the couch, trying to keep the corners of his lips down as a smile threatens to break out on his face. Her presence is dangerous to him, he thinks with determination, as he fixes his gaze on the open pages of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, that rest on his lap. He pretends not to see, from the corner of his eye, a purple-haired head poke through the door. He pushes his glasses up his nose and gets back to his reading.
The giant squid is the largest invertebrate known to Muggle science. It can grow to up to 70 feet in length. Speaking more specifically, at least one giant squid lives in the lake near Hogwarts castle, and seems to be more or less friendly toward the inhabitants-
He can picture the way she makes a face at the echoes her footsteps produce on the wooden floor, shattering the quiet in the library. He hears the little sigh from her lips as she walks over to where he is, and he braces himself. He does not make any attempt to struggle at she pulls the book from his lap, tossing it aside. Instead, he revels in the sensation caused by the brief contact of her fingers on his trousers.
“I should’ve known Sirius was right,” Tonks says without preamble, quirking a brow at him.
Right? Right about what? Sirius liked to think he was right about a lot of things. Remus searches his brain for something incriminating he could’ve said to his best friend, and is slightly reassured when nothing potentially embarrassing stands out in his memory. He dares to look with wonder and apprehension into her eyes, which today are flecked with gold. They glint with a teasing twinkle. He appreciates her natural flair for being able to coordinate her appearance, and suppresses a grin at the irony of how she is unable to coordinate her feet.
“He told me that you’d ditch the rest of the meeting by locking yourself up in the library. You thought that I wouldn’t catch on, didn’t you?”
A bewildered look crosses his face. Tonks grins triumphantly and leans towards him, her purple fringe flopping over her eyes. She pauses, as if in deep thought, and a vivid pink flows from the roots of her hair down to its shimmery ends. It shortens before his eyes into her favorite spiked hairdo, and Remus thinks that he will never tire of watching her through all her changes. She then proceeds to plant her palms on either of his shoulders. He swallows at their sudden proximity.
“The meeting ended hours ago,” Remus reminds her pointedly, mostly as a means to distract himself from the tangy orange scent of her perfume. “I just wanted to relax with a good book.” His brown eyes sparkle behind his glasses. “You should know better than to believe everything that Sirius spews out of his mouth.”
“I know, but…” She wrinkles her nose and gently shakes his shoulders. “You call spending all your free time in a dark, dusty library with a humungous book on--” she glances quickly at the cover of the book on the floor - “‘Fantastic beasts’… relaxing?” She accentuates her comments with a roll of her eyes. “Come on, Remus. At the rate you’re going, you’ll end up as the sorry male version of the little old lady with too many cats and depressing memories.”
“I happen to think they are fascinating,” he responds rather defensively, because he cannot bear the thought that she thinks he will end up that way, and the sad truth that he will. “And I just wanted to catch up on my sleep. The settee is very comfortable…”
Tonks snorts. “I’m sure you won’t have any trouble doing just that, especially if you’re reading on…” she finally picks up the book and briefly scans it. “The giant squid?”
“The giant squid was always such a happy fixture for me at Hogwarts. James, Sirius, Peter, and I would spend many a lazy afternoon trying to poke at its tentacles.” A wistful smile curves his lips before he can help it. “After all this time, it’s still there in the lake near the castle. It’s always reassuring that some things never change, you know.”
Tonks relinquishes her hold on his shoulders, and seems to be considering his words. He thinks he imagines a sad smile on her face - no, he cannot tolerate pity, for it is the last thing that he needs from her - but it is replaced by the teasing look that he has come to know so well in their few short months of working with each other. Remus admits to himself, albeit a bit hesitantly, that Tonks’s presence has made every dreary evening spent drinking a cup of hot tea or a mug of warm chocolate cocoa a lot more worthwhile.
“As much as I love the giant squid, Remus, it’s pretty obvious that you need more happy memories.” Before he realizes what she is doing, Tonks sits herself down on the settee, and curls up beside him. Through his tatty jumper, the feel of her arms as they wrap loosely around him is electric. “I hope you don’t mind. I’ve spent a long day dealing with Fudge and his bullshit, and I don’t fancy sleeping upstairs in my room by myself. That ghoul in the loo just freaks me out.”
Remus thinks it is a miracle that he is even capable of nodding. “All right,” he answers, and heaves a small sigh as Tonks rests her head on his shoulder. He does not know why he is allowing her to get to him like this, and he does not know where it will lead. But he insists to himself that it cannot go anywhere. It will not continue after tonight, he tells himself firmly, even as his resistance crumbles when those once again dark eyes peer up at him.
“Now, Professor Lupin. Tell me a story about the giant squid. It had better be a good one!”
III. Skip
(v.) to move in a light, springy manner by bounding forward with alternate hops on each foot; to pass from one point, thing, subject, etc., to another, disregarding or omitting what intervenes.
He knows that it is the sight of her spinning around rapidly, laughing heartily at herself and falling into a pile of orange and red leaves when she gets too dizzy, that makes his heart skip a beat.
Remus smiles in spite of himself as he leans down and helps Tonks up. It is something automatic between them - each time she falls over (which happens a lot), it is expected that he will reach out and pull her to her feet. Maybe he is thinking too much when he sees - no, hopes - that he is the only one she permits to assist her.
As pathetic as it sounds, it makes him feel special that she usually brushes aside anyone else when they come to her aid, stubbornly insisting that she is fine. They often miss her wincing and cursing herself for her inability to stay upright. Remus believes her clumsiness to be one of her many endearing traits, and often gets frustrated with himself for not having the nerve to tell her what he thinks. His hand is the only thing that he is sure she will not reject.
He indulges himself when he lets his fingers stay wrapped in hers for a moment longer. When he drops her hand and returns his own to his pocket, burrowing it deep where it is out of her reach and where it can be controlled, Remus swears he sees disappointment flicker in her presently green eyes. Today, she wears her hair in all the colors of autumn, and as usual, she is breathtaking.
“I love autumn, don’t you?” she asks, and a sense of wonder shines in her eyes once more. Remus decides that they love autumn for very different reasons. He prefers spring because the world around him is full of life, far away from the cold loneliness of winter that makes him die inside. Fall is the season before winter, and although he appreciates the beauty that makes the leaves and the sunlight more stunning, the heavy cloud of impending winter always hangs over his head. Now, he begins to love autumn because it makes her happy, and if he is honest with himself, he wishes he had the opportunity or power to make her smile the way she does when a falling leaf tickles her nose.
“Yes,” he says, and his heart soars when she gives him a huge smile. He then throws Moody’s Invisibility Cloak over both of them, and they go back to monitoring the activities outside Malfoy Manor, crouched beneath a huge rhododendron bush.
“Remus, when was the last time you rolled around in the leaves?” The question catches him off-guard, and a blush creeps into his skin when the meaning of her words sinks in.
Tonks seems to realize what she has said and has the decency to look slightly horrified. “Oh no, I wasn’t thinking like that!” She then bursts into a fit of giggles. “Unless… you and Sirius have more Marauder escapades that you aren’t telling me about.” She wags her eyebrows at him, and it is all he can do not to dive into the leaves and bury his head in embarrassment.
“You should keep quiet, Nymphadora. The Death Eaters might spot us,” Remus feebly chastises her, and this only makes her laugh harder after a scowling for a second at the use of her first name. He consoles himself with fact that he is making her smile and laugh, something that only a select few can do. He beams to himself at this revelation, remembering how she would usually just roll her eyes or respond sarcastically when other people joked - but when it came to him, even his lame attempts at poking fun at Snape’s perpetually greasy hair and how he must have used his prowess in Potions in some way to always make it shiny and shampoo-repellent, had her practically rolling on the floor laughing.
“You know that isn’t true, Remus. You cast a damn good Imperturbable Charm - and you’re obviously one of the best wizards around. Like hell they’d be able to hear us!” As if to prove her point, Tonks slips a hand into her robes and pulls out a dungbomb. She lobs it at the area in front of her and watches it explode. Remus covers his nose as a putrid stench filters through the air, his shoulders sagging in defeat.
Why does she possess the special ability to make him blush with every word she says?
“Do you always carry a dungbomb in your pocket?” he asks incredulously, yet the amusement rings clear in his voice.
“You never know when you’ll come face to face with a bunch of pathetic Death Eaters, so yeah…” Tonks’s face assumes an innocent expression, and she winks at him.
“Right. I’m sure the Malfoys will feel terribly threatened.” He stands up from his place behind the bush they are hiding out in, and gestures at the high hedges that surround Lucius Malfoy’s manor. “Then again, his peacocks could always use a good scare.”
She launches herself at him before he has time to react. Remus feels himself toppling sideways into the pile of leaves, her fingers furiously assaulting him as she tries in vain to tickle him. Remus sniggers at her attempts, wondering if she will ever get it through her head that he is not ticklish at all. His laughter subsides when her gold and auburn hair falls into his face, and they are practically nose to nose, eyes boring into the other’s as their limbs entwine with the red and orange leaves fluttering around them.
Something shifts in the air around them, and Remus inhales sharply as Tonks closes her eyes and leans into him…
…Only to let out a small cry of pain.
“Bugger. I think I sprained my ankle.” Tonks winces, moving against him as she struggles to sit up. Remus pays no mind to the pangs of disappointment that crash over him at the loss of her touch and the feel of her petite body against his-
“Where does it hurt?” he says abruptly, sitting up and taking his wand out of his robes.
“Here.” She points to a spot in her ankle that swells with an angry shade of red. Remus points his wand over it and mutters a healing spell under his breath, and soon, her ankle looks flawless once more.
“Where’d you learn to do that so well?” she inquires, sounding genuinely amazed.
The blush that has taken up permanent residence in his cheeks grows deeper. “It’s useful to know some healing spells, especially when I wake up all sore and injured the morning after a full moon.”
He looks down, almost ashamed of his admission. His mind runs away with a million thoughts of just how can she stand to be near him, to touch him, laugh with him and not at him, and to make him feel so good about himself - when she is perfect, he is a beast, and-
Tonks plants a kiss on his cheek, his skin burning under the brief contact of her lips. “Thank you. Stop worrying about your ‘furry little problem’ and thinking that you’re useless. I know you, Remus. Now, just think about what I’d do if I didn’t have you…”
For the first time since his Hogwarts days, Remus throws caution to the wind and wonders how nice it might feel for his hands to skim over the soft fabric of her t-shirt. And so he allows his palms to settle on the small of her back, fingers knotting as he pulls her closer and gives her a smile that lights up his weary brown eyes. She nestles against him and pulls the Invisibility Cloak tight around them.
Days later, Sirius wonders why he walks around the desolate corridors of Grimmauld Place with a spring in his step, and it is all Remus can do to stop from grinning like an idiot.
IV. Trip
(n.) a stumble; misstep; any stimulating or exciting experience; any intense interest or preoccupation;
(v.) to cause to make a slip or error.
He knows that he has fallen in love with her one day after the full moon in December, when he looks blearily up at her holding a tray with a breakfast Molly Weasley has prepared, concern and anxiety written all over her face.
Under her gaze, he feels naked, even though he is covered by a heavy duvet. He sits up from the mattress on the floor, unable to grasp the vision before him. Innumerable emotions cloud over his mind at the sight of Tonks here, in the room they have equipped with bars and locks, with his vulnerability laid bare for her to see.
“Where’s Sirius?” he croaks, and he sees the hurt flash in her eyes. She sets the tray down on the floor and kneels, so she is almost at his eye level.
“Sirius is nursing quite a hangover this morning. I think he downed too much Firewhisky again… no wait, when doesn’t he?” Remus picks up on her nervous and pained tone, no matter how well she tries to hide it. “Apparently, after he’d made sure that you had enough food and water to get you by for the night, he let himself out and celebrated Harry and his friends’ upcoming return for the holidays with his best friend Ogden.”
He tries to smile, but his muscles do not cooperate. What little happiness Tonks wears on her face evaporates.
“I… wondered who’d be taking care of you. He managed to let me in after moonset before collapsing on the floor outside. I levitated him to his bed before coming here and covering you up. Don’t worry, I didn’t see anything I shouldn’t have…”
But she has seen everything she shouldn’t have. He says nothing as he pulls the duvet tighter around him, as though it can hide the disgusting mess he becomes every morning after the full moon; the blood stains on it do not exist, and his expression is stony, his eyes determinedly not meeting hers.
“Remus, I couldn’t stand not knowing how you were. I didn’t sleep at all last night. I rarely do during the full moon.” She reveals this with a desperate plea in her voice. “I mean, I know you’ve somehow taken care of yourself all these years, even without Sirius and the Wolfsbane Potion… but would it hurt to have someone take care of you for a change? I don’t mean mollycoddling, just…” The words die on her lips, and she looks away. Remus can see the tears glistening in her eyes.
Remus has always believed that anything could be achieved if one set his mind to it. So it follows that he is sure he can resist Nymphadora Tonks. It is simply a case of mind over matter. But he does not count his heart’s sudden entrance into the equation.
He has made a huge mistake in letting her get under his skin, and him growing closer to her in turn. He can only fool himself for so long, thinking that the furtive glances, “accidental” touches, and the inside jokes they exchange over Order meetings are just things that people with platonic relationships do. He cannot brush aside the sparks that ignite whenever they are within close proximity. He cannot escape from the light her mere presence brings in the darkness that resides in Number 12, Grimmauld Place and his and Sirius’ lives. He can only pretend in vain that her company, stories, opinion, and laughter do not mean anything to him (they mean everything).
Most of all, he cannot ignore her resilience.
But he also cannot ignore the fact that he is a werewolf.
Tonks thinks it is a trivial matter, and the way she treats the issue of his lycanthropy with such lenience that both elates and frightens him. She had found out from Sirius what he was not long after they first met, and Remus thinks back to this moment with a bittersweet sensation - her only reaction was “So what? I once had a crush on an actor in the Muggle movie, ‘An American Werewolf in London.’”
Sirius has been telling him for quite some time that Tonks fancies him, and Remus refuses to believe it, citing three reasons: he is too poor, too old, and too dangerous; therefore, things like gorgeous, young Aurors harboring crushes on him just do not happen in the real world. Sirius also has a reputation as a gifted prankster, so why would this be any different? Besides, Remus likes to think that he knows Tonks better than Sirius does. Although the three of them spend many nights together over Firewhisky and games of chess and Exploding Snap, it is Remus who uncannily ends up going on numerous missions for the Order with her, after all.
His convictions had been slowly shaken by the passing months. Remus had discovered a side of Tonks that he never expected: how serious and determined she is when she wants something. Thinking back, he should have anticipated this because he knows firsthand how stubborn she can be - a fine example being her perseverance in becoming an Auror in spite of her clumsiness and family ties. She often hints at wanting to speak about his condition, and he knows that it is more than mere curiosity that rouses her questions. And it is more than being uncomfortable with the topic that fuels his desire to change the subject.
He spotted her in the library a couple of times, poring over books on Dark creatures. He didn’t need to ask what creature in particular she was researching on. Questions and doubts burned at the back of Remus’ mind, but he ignored them, thinking that if he did not say anything, Tonks would stop nursing a passing interest in his being a werewolf. He then recalls how, long ago, he was faced with the very same situation in James, Peter, and Sirius. He remembers where their concern got them, and this is when he knows he cannot stop Tonks from caring about him.
And he knows he cannot stop himself from falling for her. But, he stubbornly repeats, it is worth a try. He will not let her be exposed to the kind of danger he possesses if he can help it.
So why is he so taken aback when the tears crowd her eyes and cascade down her cheeks?
It is too late, he realizes. He should have discerned early on that opening up to her would mean sharing all of what he was, and not just what he wanted her to see.
It is impossible to deny the pull she has over him. He likens it to the pull of the moon.
His face softens. He leans over to her, the blanket falling below his chest. His scars are raw and angry, but suddenly, they seem to be a little less painful.
It is inevitable that he would fall in love with her.
So he lets her know how he feels by wiping her tears with his thumbs, cupping her face delicately in his hands, and drawing her close. Their lips are mere inches apart. He aches to capture them with his own, but instead breathes the words, “Thank you, Nymphadora.”
He hopes the look in his eyes tells her everything else he does not have the courage to say.
V. Frolic
(n.) playful behavior or action;
(v.) to play in a frisky, light-spirited manner; romp.
He knows that there is nothing more that he wants than to take her into his arms and find somewhere private where they can dance to their own music.
It is February - Valentine’s Day in particular, the only other day besides the anniversary of James and Lily’s deaths that makes him want to stay in bed all day, depressed and brooding about the uselessness and the injustice in the world - not counting the days with a full moon, that is. He is aware that it might be taking things a little too far, comparing a day devoted to love to the death of his best friends and the betrayal of someone who he thought was his friend, but he believes he has a valid excuse - Cupid has not been kind to Remus Lupin, commercialized holiday or not.
Valentine’s Day always has a way of rubbing to his face everything he considered bad about himself - his poverty (he could barely afford bars of Honeydukes chocolate to satisfy his own craving, let alone a box of overpriced, heart-shaped candies - and what about the romantic dinner at a five-star restaurant?), his age (he was pretty sure the ladies saw an elderly lecher when he looked at them), definitely his lack of a love life (he didn’t count the crazy girls who thought werewolf sex was kinky). All in all, Valentine’s Day was not a good time to be a werewolf.
But this year, his outlook towards All Hearts’ Day and love in general has considerably improved. He sneaks a glance at the person responsible for his spirits lifting, his heart beating multiple times its normal rate, and is startled when he finds her looking back at him. He then proceeds to go back to giving the ground his full attention. The chatter around him continues to invade his ears, yet he only strains them for the sound of her voice.
Sirius’ little Valentine’s Day party is in full swing. Remus takes a break from staring at the floor at the sound of his best friend’s great, barking laughter. Their gazes meet, and Sirius nods at him before going back to his butterbeer, clutching his stomach as he howls with laughter at something Mundungus Fletcher has said. Remus concludes that they are comparing their “sexploits” again, whether imaginary or not. Remus is secretly thankful that Sirius has found a sort of drinking buddy in Mundungus, however filthy a slug he might be. He certainly could hold his liquor better than Remus could.
Remus has always appreciated his colleagues, feeling honored to be trusted by and to be working with esteemed and talented wizards who all had a common goal - Lord Voldemort’s defeat. Yet he feels even more grateful for them now, on this afternoon in February, where some of them are gathered in the basement kitchen of Grimmauld Place to celebrate Valentine’s Day.
It was Sirius’ idea, of course - with his need to find something to do to get rid of his boredom and combat his depression, he had asked Remus (with the aid of alcohol, surely) if he thought that having a small Order get-together for Valentine’s Day was a good idea. Upon hearing Sirius’ suggestion, Remus had immediately decided that the idea was utter bollocks - until Sirius explained himself further. They all needed a breather from the hard work they’d been doing lately, overwhelmed by recent events: the death of Broderick Bode and the mass breakout of the Death Eaters from Azkaban. Dumbledore would surely let them have Valentine’s Day off, Sirius had added, and they hadn’t had a party since Christmas. A good number of the Order members would probably come, given that not all of them were attached…
“Dumbledore coming is obviously out of the question, what with leading the Order and having to deal with Fudge and Umbridge’s shit. McGonagall, though I can’t think of anyone better who looks like she needs a Valentine’s shag, will be guarding the school along with the other teachers…” While Sirius was talking, Remus’ eyes had magnified to almost twice their normal size at the mention of ‘Minerva McGonagall’ and ‘shag’ in the same sentence.
Sirius continued as if he hadn’t seen Remus’ reaction. “Snape, there is no fucking way I’m letting him into this house again, the way he treats Harry…” His eyes darkened, but he prattled on. “Fleur and Bill will be celebrating with their own language of love, Molly and Arthur will probably be making another addition to the Weasley clan…”
That was where Remus drew the line. “Padfoot, I don’t think I want to discuss Arthur and Molly’s procreating habits.” Sirius just smirked.
“So we have Dedalus, Elphias, Mad-Eye, Hestia, Emmeline, Dung, Kingsley, and Charlie who look like they’ll be able to go!” he cheerfully declared, ticking their names off his fingers. “That’s definitely a good number of people for a party!”
“You’re forgetting someone,” Remus corrected him without thinking twice about the repercussions. “Tonks. Don’t you plan on inviting your own cousin to the party?”
A knowing grin spread across Sirius’ face, and it automatically made Remus wish he knew how to shut his mouth where Tonks was involved. “Right. Tonks. Of course she’s invited. I just assumed that you know, maybe she wouldn’t be free…”
“What makes you think she won’t be free?” Remus tried to ask as casually as he could, but the panic in his voice betrayed him.
“Oh, you know. The usual. I’m sure she’s got a lot of blokes lining up to take her out on dates. She is a beautiful young woman, independent and with a mind of her own. That’s very attractive, don’t you agree? Plus, she can change herself to satisfy a man’s fantasies,” Sirius mused. “If we weren’t related and I wasn’t trapped in this bloody house, I would definitely go for her.”
He didn’t know which of all of those statements horrified him the most. “Sirius, you wouldn’t do that. She’s, well… she’s…” Remus’ attempt at chiding his best friend was failing fabulously.
“Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it, Moony.” The smirk was back on Sirius’ face.
This was the one thing that Remus could declare with quiet confidence. “I would never ask her to change for me or be anyone else. She’s perfect the way she is.”
Remus hated how Sirius knew him too well, knew what buttons to push in order to get what he wanted from him. “I thought so. Marvelous, it’s settled then! You and Tonks, at my little Valentine’s party. Unless there’s somewhere else you’re planning to take her - by all means, go for it! I’ll even help pay for your date!”
Remus was too mortified to notice Sirius’ dig at his lack of finances. His cheeks were on fire. “It is not a date. We are not planning anything.”
Sirius raised an eyebrow in reply. “I don’t believe that for a second, Moony. But I want you to know I’m ready and willing to help you out…”
And this is why he has taken to standing beside the fireplace for most of the evening, digging his hands into his trousers as he watches the scene in front of him unfold: some members of the Order of the Phoenix are sipping various kinds of wine from the Black family cellar, eating the food and desserts that Molly insisted on preparing before she and Arthur headed out to enjoy themselves. Remus glances around at the ridiculous display of Valentine-themed decorations strewn around the normally gloomy kitchen - huge, frilly red hearts are plastered around the walls, fairies floating above their heads, the wireless’ dial fixed on Celestina Warbeck and her cauldron of hot, strong love… Remus thinks he will not hesitate to gag and take all these down in a second, if they do not make Sirius so happy.
Across from him, Tonks is sitting down in front of the long table, flanked by Kingsley Shacklebolt and Charlie Weasley. Kingsley’s deep voice resonates with laughter as he reacts to a story Mad-Eye is recounting, and Remus wonders if Mad-Eye had lost a buttock when he tried to woo someone. Charlie is clearly working hard to gain Tonks’s attention, and Remus can detect snatches of their conversation as he regales her with stories about his life in Romania. But Remus’ heart stops when he finally dares to let his gaze linger on Tonks, and once again finds her dark eyes staring straight back at him.
He can vaguely hear Hestia and Emmeline giggling at something that Dedalus Diggle has told them. The sounds of Celestina Warbeck’s crooning also reach his ears. Remus hears nothing from the noises in the background; nothing can distract him from the sudden resurrection of his heart, as it beats thunderously inside his chest. Neither of them has broken their gaze. No one else seems to notice, except for a confused Charlie, who then turns to engage Elphias Doge in conversation.
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Sirius excuse himself and grab two glasses, filled with a honey-colored liquid. He then saunters over to Tonks, taps her on the shoulder, and offers her the drink. Remus thinks he must be delusional in imagining that Tonks still manages to accept the drink and not tear her eyes away from his. He watches as her lips slide over the rim of the glass and she drains its contents. It takes him every ounce of self-restraint he possesses not to jump over the table and kiss her right there.
They had been treading on dangerous ground ever since that morning after the full moon where she first helped him, and he shared the part of himself to her that he had been attempting to hide from her. He still reprimands himself for not kissing her when he could’ve, especially at that moment when he thanked her. Remus had quickly thought that just because she cared for him, it didn’t necessarily mean that she loved him - that was enough to let him settle for a “thank you.” The look of disappointment on her face had haunted his dreams, however.
Although he was slightly more comfortable and less self-conscious whenever she went with Sirius to aid him during the day after the last full moon, something had shifted between them. It was as if that almost-kiss was a specter that hung over their heads, causing them to fumble their words and be awkward with each other for more than a month, even as they continued with their usual friendly routines. He didn’t know if he would be relieved or frustrated that they had been assigned on fewer missions together - the only good thing he got out of it was being able to focus more on the task at hand, without her presence driving him mad. Sirius had infuriatingly observed that the sexual tension between them was so thick, he could slice it with Gryffindor’s sword.
Remus has always denied that such a tension existed between them. Yet its reality stuns him as he glances back into her eyes, brimming with so much depth and emotion that he is sure is reflected in his own. He is brought back to reality by the sound of Sirius clearing his throat and pushing under his nose a glass of the same amber-colored liquid he offered to Tonks. Irritated by his best mate’s perpetually bad timing, Remus grabs the drink from him and gulps it down.
What happens next sets his world into a tailspin. He wobbles a bit as the drink shoots right up to his brain. How much of it did he drink, and what did Sirius put in it? He feels overwhelmed by a sudden surge of lust and love for the woman who is the only clear sight to his presently muddled brain. It is as though a dam has collapsed with the flood of all the sensations and emotions coursing through his veins. Remus chances a glance at Tonks.
Only to find her looking at him the same way.
There are no words needed. Sirius’ victorious grin fades into the background like the rest of their colleagues’ voices, and the hearts stuck on the walls become a blur. Tonks slips out of her chair and waves at Charlie, stumbling on her feet as she makes her way up the stairs with the occasional glance over her shoulder at him. Remus does not need any telling twice. As soon as she is out of the basement, he impatiently waits for a minute or two to pass before he follows her. He is restless with desire. And once he finally decides it is safe, he leaves the room, practically running.
He finds her in the sitting room. They stare at each other for a moment, before he steps in and gently closes the door behind him, directing his wand at it and locking it. She moves towards him, seemingly nervous as she places her hands on his shoulders. His arms snake around her waist as they crush her to his chest. She stands on tiptoe, and her lips are just a breath away. Both of them close their eyes and he leans towards her, closing the distance.
He doesn’t know who kissed who first, or who’s kissing the other harder. All Remus knows is that he’s kissing Tonks with everything he has, like it’s the only thing he knows how to do. The feel of her hands as they grip his shoulders makes his skin tingle, even underneath his jumper. The moistness of her soft lips against his own is enough for him to gently tease her mouth open with his tongue, and the little gasp of surprise she makes at his insistence sends waves of pleasure over him.
She responds eagerly to him; if the feel of her fingers as they rake through his hair is not real, then Remus never wants to wake up from the most fantastic dream he has ever had. Before he knows it, his fingers are exploring her body, trailing up and down her arms and soon tracing intricate patterns on her back, and her lips have claimed his neck. He is lost in a world of color and sensation, a world where in which only Tonks can lure him. He has often scoffed at people who compare kisses to fireworks exploding, but now Remus knows what they are talking about - and more. Kissing Tonks feels like a supernova exploding, and he is sure that he will see stars for a long time after this.
His fingers and mouth are moving entirely of their own volition. He cannot decide which need is more pressing - the urge to lose himself entirely in the sensations elicited by Tonks’s touch, or his own craving to rove his fingers all over her body. It is when she pulls away from another searing kiss and fumbles with his belt that Remus is jolted. His eyes widen and his fingers still their movement. It takes Tonks a moment to realize that he has stopped, and she ceases her attempts to undo his belt, looking up at him with questions in her eyes.
“Tonks… I…” Remus’ breath comes in ragged gasps, and his world is still spinning. “I’m sorry. I… you… we can’t do this.” The words come out of his mouth without any further thought. He throws his head back, wincing as the gravity of what just transpired weighs heavily on him.
Tonks inhales deeply and glares at him. “And why the hell not, Remus? I want it, and I can tell you obviously do, too.” She makes a not-so-subtle gesture at his trousers, where the evidence of his arousal betrays him.
He is still having a hard time breathing. “Tonks, listen to me. You don’t know what you’re talking about. You can’t want this.” His flaws are becoming clearer to him, almost as clear as the desire and hurt shining in her eyes. The next thing he says sounds pathetic to his own ears, but it is his only defense. “I’m a werewolf.”
“So what?” she yells, taking a step towards him. “You know I never cared about that.”
“So plenty! I care about it. You’re drunk. I… Sirius put something in that drink. When I find him, I’m going to castrate him…” Remus swears under his breath, but the joke is lost on Tonks. There is a desperate plea in her gaze that makes Remus suddenly decide that the floor is a more appealing thing to look at. He steps back, his hand finding the doorknob.
When she looks up at him with those dark eyes, he instantly knows what she is about to say. He inches towards the door and slowly opens it.
“Remus, I love-”
Her words are cut off by the slam of the door as it swings shut. His lips tingle at the memory of her kiss. He leans against it, bringing his hands to cover his face, and wonders what in the world they have just done.
VI. Stumble
(v.) to strike the foot against something, as in walking or running, so as to stagger or fall; to walk or go unsteadily; to falter or hesitate, as at an obstacle to progress or belief;
(n.) a slip.
He has always known that she would end up walking into his life, tripping over her feet, and making him fall head-over-heels in love as he tried to catch her.
Remus sits by her hospital bed at St. Mungo’s, his fingers tightly grasping her cold hand. There is a weak pulse, and he focuses on it, as though it is the only real thing in the world. Tonight, he feels as if he is living in a terrible nightmare where even the light of day cannot save him. Images from the battle at the Department of Mysteries flash in his mind, and he is powerless to shut them out. It is impossible that only mere hours have passed since he held Harry back from the veil, his heart breaking along with his voice as he restrained his best friends’ son and told him the one thing that almost killed him to say: “It’s too late, Harry - There’s nothing you can do, Harry… nothing. He’s gone.”
He has always been slightly jealous of the grace that Sirius exuded, whether in dueling or simply downing a glass of Firewhisky. Remus then remembers how Sirius carried his gracefulness to the point of falling through the archway. His last laugh echoes through Remus’ mind - the laugh that had not quite died, even as he fell through to his death.
His death. Remus shuts his eyes, willing the tears to come. He wants to weep, to mourn his best friend, to drown in sorrow over the fact that once again, he is alone. He feels like a desert, parched and empty with numbness. How… why is he sitting here, unscathed, watching over Tonks as she lay still, barely breathing? Sirius should be here - he deserved that, deserved his freedom after all he suffered for Harry. Twelve years in Azkaban for a crime he did not commit, another in incarceration in the very house that he despised. Remus suddenly thinks that being a werewolf is a small sacrifice compared to what Sirius had to endure. He was so close to freedom, while Remus would never be free. He cannot understand the injustice of it all. He should have died instead of Sirius - at the very least, the Order would have suffered less.
The Order has achieved one important thing - finally convincing the Ministry of Lord Voldemort’s return. But in the light of other events, he pushes that detail aside, wondering if all they have lost is truly worth it. Is anything worth this war? He allows himself a moment of weakness and selfishness, his shoulders sagging as he exhales. He cannot be a rock right now, not when his foundations are shaken and he does not know if anything can hold him together.
He sees his hand entwined with Tonks’s own. He takes in her pallid skin, the mousy brown hair plastered to her face, her closed eyes. He knows that this is the face she was born with, the one she shows only to those she trusts. Suddenly, he knows why he is here, why he is alive. He grips her hand tighter. It is his lifeline.
His heart constricts as he remembers how she fell after fighting Bellatrix Lestrange. Every time she had fallen, he had always been there to catch her. The one time he wasn’t there just had to be when Bellatrix decided to try and prune her precious family tree. He had been dueling with two Death Eaters; the cavernous room that housed the archway and the Department of Mysteries was in utter chaos, with cries of frustration and despair surrounding him, bright flashes of light in the air. Everything was a blur, and it was only when he heard Bellatrix’ triumphant shriek that he saw her fall from the stone steps. He felt like he was punched in the gut as he saw her limp form hit the stone seats as she toppled down.
He recalled every moment after that. Remus stood on the spot, paralyzed. He didn’t know who to go to first - Moody had already rushed to Tonks - oh God, oh God… what if something happened to her, and they never got the chance to fix things between them? - Sirius was dueling with Bellatrix, and Lucius Malfoy was threatening to attack Harry and Neville… His feet moved of their own volition towards his former students. Harry had aimed his wand at Malfoy and blasted him off his back, causing him to smash onto the dais where Sirius and Bellatrix where fighting. But before he could do any more harm to Neville and Harry, Remus leapt between them, his wand pointed at Malfoy’s face. Remus told Harry to gather his friends and go, while he started to duel with Malfoy-
Remembering what happened after that causes him to inhale sharply. He is suddenly aware of how much his arms hurt, after struggling to hold Harry back.
Sirius.
The pain of loss starts to swell in his chest. He cannot believe he did not even get a chance to say goodbye to him. He was taken away from them after a brief reunion, dying twice in Remus’ eyes - the first time, when he thought that he had betrayed them all. The second time-
He knows he should be used to loss by now. It is the story of his life.
His lifts his eyes and gazes at Tonks once more. Her skin is covered with bruises. He flinches, realizing that he has consciously continued to bruise her heart as well.
Sirius had always told him he was a daft prick for the way he treated Tonks after the heated kiss they shared on Valentine’s Day. Remus had put up a stubborn front, reiterating all his valid reasons. He blamed Sirius for starting it in the first place, for stoking the fire that existed between him and Tonks and watching gleefully as it consumed them for a moment. A moment that had changed everything between them, turned things more awkward than ever, and made unbearable almost four months of not working together if they could help it, tiptoeing around their feelings, and denying their desires. Yes, it was his fault. He let things go too far; her presence in his life led him to believe in the possibility of a happy future and almost made him forget that they were fighting a war. It just wasn’t the war against Voldemort - it was also the private war he fought with the monster living inside of him.
But now, he realizes he has also been waging a war against love - when he should be using love to gain an upper hand in the war. He and Tonks have become casualties when it wasn’t necessary, and he has wasted his energy in denying the existence of something that was always there, from the moment she stumbled into Grimmauld Place and complained about the evils of troll leg umbrella stands. He should have known it was inevitable.
He is tired of fighting.
Sirius had always boasted he was right about everything. And now, Remus believes he is.
He will not allow himself to lose her. She is the only thing left that is dear to him, and he knows that without her, there is no point in fighting this war, no point in living at all. He will not waste what Sirius has worked so hard to bring about, from the moment he recognized the chemistry between him and Tonks, and that his best friend deserved a chance to be happy. He had always joked about how they had better name one of their mutli-colored werewolf pups “Sirius.”
A ghost of a smile appears on his face. He knows that wherever Sirius is right now, he is looking down on them and smirking. Remus looks up and rolls his eyes, almost expecting to hear Sirius’ bark of laughter. He hopes that his best friend is happy where he is.
For the first time in his life after leaving Hogwarts, Remus Lupin feels like fate has bestowed a rare smile upon him. How many people are lucky enough to stumble onto love in the middle of the war, where there is hate, anguish, and destruction all around?
He raises her hand to his lips and brushes it with a feather-light kiss.
He tells her what he has been longing to say, even if she cannot hear it right then. That does not matter, for he will never tire of repeating the words and showing her exactly how he feels.
“I love you, Nymphadora.”
He looks up at her face, and even if her eyes are closed and she is unconscious, he thinks he sees her smiling.
Author: parapsionic
Rating and Warnings: PG-13 for mild sexual references and swearing.
Prompts: A day of destiny, romance or action/adventure, the giant squid, location prompt #36 (picture of a man and a woman’s shoes).
Word Count: 9,094
Summary: He has always known, somehow, that she would end up walking into his life and changing its course. The early stages of Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks’s relationship, as explained by the different kinds of walking.
Author’s Note: I’d like to thank ishandtwofourths on FF.net and mocca_fix_gold for looking this over. :D This story only covers OotP, mainly because it was turning out to be longer than I expected and there isn't enough time to write about HBP and DH, lol! The passage about the giant squid is slightly reworded, but still swiped from the HP Lexicon. I’m not sure if the giant squid is really mentioned in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, so I hope that the liberties I took with it are okay. I’m quite nervous about this, since it’s my first fic here! Concrit would be greatly appreciated. :)
Footsteps
(n.) a step with the foot; a step on which to go up or down.
I. Tiptoe
(v.) to move or go on tiptoe, as with caution or stealth;
(adj.) eagerly expectant.
He knows what will happen before it does.
Her arms flail wildly in the air, a little squeak of panic escaping her lips as she pitches forward and plummets rather ungracefully towards the ground. Remus Lupin’s eyes widen, the heavy tome in his hands abruptly forgotten as he prepares to dive to her rescue. He knows he has made a foolish mistake when it falls on his feet with a loud thud, rendering him incapable of performing any kind of saving. He grimaces and holds back a yelp, and as his toes protest under the weight of the massive book, he finds himself looking down into a pair of dark eyes.
They belong to a woman with spiky pink hair, who lies on the floor with the blush on her cheeks evident even in the dimly lit hallway. An awkward silence passes between them as they exchange uncomfortable looks. Remus manages to remember how to be a gentleman after he picks up the book from his feet, so he extends a hand to help the newcomer. She gratefully reaches for it, and as her fingers brush his, he feels something stir at the warm touch of her skin. The fact that there is a meeting he has to go back to (and Dumbledore needs the book on giants he had just fetched from the library) slips from his mind.
“Thanks,” the woman says, and while she straightens herself up and tries to remove the creases in her clothing, Remus gets a few moments to study her profile. Her bright, short hair stands out in contrast to the dark blue of what look like Ministry robes, and he catches a glimpse of what she wears under them - a loud, green t-shirt with the slogan The Weird Sisters emblazoned on it, and a pair of jeans with the holes in them artfully designed. Her eyes meet his again, and this time, Remus feels a flush blooming across his cheeks because she has caught him staring - no, observing. An uncertain smile appears on her face, and her dark eyes sparkle as the blush caused by her grand entrance fades.
“I tried to come early, I really did!” she rushes to explain, her hands making wild gestures as she points to the rug beneath their feet and the troll leg umbrella stand that lies toppled behind her. “But I got held up at work because Scrimgeour wanted a word, and Kingsley, git he is, left without me!” The words tumble out of her mouth, and all Remus can do is nod at her as she babbles on without acknowledging him.
“Not that I couldn’t have come here by myself. I did! I’m an Auror, for Merlin’s sake!” she cries. “Anyway, I’ve already been here before, and Moody himself was there to show me around. There wasn’t a meeting then, and it’s just my bloody luck that the first time I have to attend one, I’m late and I make a spectacular display of my clumsiness. But it’s not my fault! I tried to tiptoe in so I wouldn’t disturb everyone, but I didn’t even notice that thing was there!” Remus takes this break in the conversation as an opportunity to attempt to understand what she is going on about.
His eyebrow arches of its own accord as he wonders what to make of the absurdity of the situation: here is a young woman who looks as though she should be heading to a rock concert after work, and not a meeting in a spooky and depressing old manor in the middle of London. She, in all of the fire and light she exudes, definitely looks out of place in the gloominess of Number 12, Grimmauld Place. And there is also the umbrella stand that she speaks so vehemently of, as though it is entirely to blame for her stumble. His gaze travels upon it. It does look innocent enough and is probably the victim of the new girl, he thinks wryly.
“It’s just so… dark and creepy. I should’ve expected my relatives to be that disturbing, what with using a troll’s leg to house umbrellas...”
Relatives? Remus thinks, his brain doing a poor job of trying to catch up with what she is saying. Wait until you see the stuffed elf heads.
"...I mean, okay. Did you see it there?” Her tone is almost accusatory, and Remus bites back a chuckle. "Wait..." she pauses, her eyes growing wide, "It's not your umbrella stand, is it?"
“It generally just likes to fade into the background,” he says after a moment of consideration. “Nobody really goes out of their way to pay any special attention to it. Well, until you came along…” he trails off, the laughter he fights hard to restrain beginning to surface.
She grins, which is the opposite of the reaction he expects. “I always told Moody and Kingsley that I’d be the one to spice things up over here. And all they did was laugh at me! I knew I’d prove them wrong,” she declares, wearing a smug expression.
“Indeed,” Remus replies. “I must say, we need as much ‘spice’ as we can get to keep things from getting deathly dull around here.” The words leave his mouth before he can think better of them, and he inwardly cringes at the stupidity of his statement. Spice? How lame can you get, Lupin?
The grin on her mouth turns devilish. “Then you’ve got the right woman for the job. I’m Tonks.”
He takes the hand she offers and shakes it, embarrassment still clear in his countenance. “Remus Lupin.”
The moment their hands touch for a second time, a sort of eager expectation fills him. He quickly thinks better of it. There is something about this young witch - Tonks - that makes him want to run screaming in the other direction because her boldness, both in deed and how she carries herself, shakes his normally stable footing. Yet it is that same boldness which also roots him to the spot. He knows something is wrong with him when he realizes he feels like the troll leg umbrella stand, knocked over unexpectedly by the tornado unleashed by a certain witch called Tonks.
II. Traipse
(v.) to walk or go aimlessly or idly or without finding or reaching one's goal.
He knows who it is the moment he hears her footsteps outside the door.
Remus ignores the little thrill of anticipation that courses through his spine as the doorknob turns. He sinks deeper into the couch, trying to keep the corners of his lips down as a smile threatens to break out on his face. Her presence is dangerous to him, he thinks with determination, as he fixes his gaze on the open pages of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, that rest on his lap. He pretends not to see, from the corner of his eye, a purple-haired head poke through the door. He pushes his glasses up his nose and gets back to his reading.
The giant squid is the largest invertebrate known to Muggle science. It can grow to up to 70 feet in length. Speaking more specifically, at least one giant squid lives in the lake near Hogwarts castle, and seems to be more or less friendly toward the inhabitants-
He can picture the way she makes a face at the echoes her footsteps produce on the wooden floor, shattering the quiet in the library. He hears the little sigh from her lips as she walks over to where he is, and he braces himself. He does not make any attempt to struggle at she pulls the book from his lap, tossing it aside. Instead, he revels in the sensation caused by the brief contact of her fingers on his trousers.
“I should’ve known Sirius was right,” Tonks says without preamble, quirking a brow at him.
Right? Right about what? Sirius liked to think he was right about a lot of things. Remus searches his brain for something incriminating he could’ve said to his best friend, and is slightly reassured when nothing potentially embarrassing stands out in his memory. He dares to look with wonder and apprehension into her eyes, which today are flecked with gold. They glint with a teasing twinkle. He appreciates her natural flair for being able to coordinate her appearance, and suppresses a grin at the irony of how she is unable to coordinate her feet.
“He told me that you’d ditch the rest of the meeting by locking yourself up in the library. You thought that I wouldn’t catch on, didn’t you?”
A bewildered look crosses his face. Tonks grins triumphantly and leans towards him, her purple fringe flopping over her eyes. She pauses, as if in deep thought, and a vivid pink flows from the roots of her hair down to its shimmery ends. It shortens before his eyes into her favorite spiked hairdo, and Remus thinks that he will never tire of watching her through all her changes. She then proceeds to plant her palms on either of his shoulders. He swallows at their sudden proximity.
“The meeting ended hours ago,” Remus reminds her pointedly, mostly as a means to distract himself from the tangy orange scent of her perfume. “I just wanted to relax with a good book.” His brown eyes sparkle behind his glasses. “You should know better than to believe everything that Sirius spews out of his mouth.”
“I know, but…” She wrinkles her nose and gently shakes his shoulders. “You call spending all your free time in a dark, dusty library with a humungous book on--” she glances quickly at the cover of the book on the floor - “‘Fantastic beasts’… relaxing?” She accentuates her comments with a roll of her eyes. “Come on, Remus. At the rate you’re going, you’ll end up as the sorry male version of the little old lady with too many cats and depressing memories.”
“I happen to think they are fascinating,” he responds rather defensively, because he cannot bear the thought that she thinks he will end up that way, and the sad truth that he will. “And I just wanted to catch up on my sleep. The settee is very comfortable…”
Tonks snorts. “I’m sure you won’t have any trouble doing just that, especially if you’re reading on…” she finally picks up the book and briefly scans it. “The giant squid?”
“The giant squid was always such a happy fixture for me at Hogwarts. James, Sirius, Peter, and I would spend many a lazy afternoon trying to poke at its tentacles.” A wistful smile curves his lips before he can help it. “After all this time, it’s still there in the lake near the castle. It’s always reassuring that some things never change, you know.”
Tonks relinquishes her hold on his shoulders, and seems to be considering his words. He thinks he imagines a sad smile on her face - no, he cannot tolerate pity, for it is the last thing that he needs from her - but it is replaced by the teasing look that he has come to know so well in their few short months of working with each other. Remus admits to himself, albeit a bit hesitantly, that Tonks’s presence has made every dreary evening spent drinking a cup of hot tea or a mug of warm chocolate cocoa a lot more worthwhile.
“As much as I love the giant squid, Remus, it’s pretty obvious that you need more happy memories.” Before he realizes what she is doing, Tonks sits herself down on the settee, and curls up beside him. Through his tatty jumper, the feel of her arms as they wrap loosely around him is electric. “I hope you don’t mind. I’ve spent a long day dealing with Fudge and his bullshit, and I don’t fancy sleeping upstairs in my room by myself. That ghoul in the loo just freaks me out.”
Remus thinks it is a miracle that he is even capable of nodding. “All right,” he answers, and heaves a small sigh as Tonks rests her head on his shoulder. He does not know why he is allowing her to get to him like this, and he does not know where it will lead. But he insists to himself that it cannot go anywhere. It will not continue after tonight, he tells himself firmly, even as his resistance crumbles when those once again dark eyes peer up at him.
“Now, Professor Lupin. Tell me a story about the giant squid. It had better be a good one!”
III. Skip
(v.) to move in a light, springy manner by bounding forward with alternate hops on each foot; to pass from one point, thing, subject, etc., to another, disregarding or omitting what intervenes.
He knows that it is the sight of her spinning around rapidly, laughing heartily at herself and falling into a pile of orange and red leaves when she gets too dizzy, that makes his heart skip a beat.
Remus smiles in spite of himself as he leans down and helps Tonks up. It is something automatic between them - each time she falls over (which happens a lot), it is expected that he will reach out and pull her to her feet. Maybe he is thinking too much when he sees - no, hopes - that he is the only one she permits to assist her.
As pathetic as it sounds, it makes him feel special that she usually brushes aside anyone else when they come to her aid, stubbornly insisting that she is fine. They often miss her wincing and cursing herself for her inability to stay upright. Remus believes her clumsiness to be one of her many endearing traits, and often gets frustrated with himself for not having the nerve to tell her what he thinks. His hand is the only thing that he is sure she will not reject.
He indulges himself when he lets his fingers stay wrapped in hers for a moment longer. When he drops her hand and returns his own to his pocket, burrowing it deep where it is out of her reach and where it can be controlled, Remus swears he sees disappointment flicker in her presently green eyes. Today, she wears her hair in all the colors of autumn, and as usual, she is breathtaking.
“I love autumn, don’t you?” she asks, and a sense of wonder shines in her eyes once more. Remus decides that they love autumn for very different reasons. He prefers spring because the world around him is full of life, far away from the cold loneliness of winter that makes him die inside. Fall is the season before winter, and although he appreciates the beauty that makes the leaves and the sunlight more stunning, the heavy cloud of impending winter always hangs over his head. Now, he begins to love autumn because it makes her happy, and if he is honest with himself, he wishes he had the opportunity or power to make her smile the way she does when a falling leaf tickles her nose.
“Yes,” he says, and his heart soars when she gives him a huge smile. He then throws Moody’s Invisibility Cloak over both of them, and they go back to monitoring the activities outside Malfoy Manor, crouched beneath a huge rhododendron bush.
“Remus, when was the last time you rolled around in the leaves?” The question catches him off-guard, and a blush creeps into his skin when the meaning of her words sinks in.
Tonks seems to realize what she has said and has the decency to look slightly horrified. “Oh no, I wasn’t thinking like that!” She then bursts into a fit of giggles. “Unless… you and Sirius have more Marauder escapades that you aren’t telling me about.” She wags her eyebrows at him, and it is all he can do not to dive into the leaves and bury his head in embarrassment.
“You should keep quiet, Nymphadora. The Death Eaters might spot us,” Remus feebly chastises her, and this only makes her laugh harder after a scowling for a second at the use of her first name. He consoles himself with fact that he is making her smile and laugh, something that only a select few can do. He beams to himself at this revelation, remembering how she would usually just roll her eyes or respond sarcastically when other people joked - but when it came to him, even his lame attempts at poking fun at Snape’s perpetually greasy hair and how he must have used his prowess in Potions in some way to always make it shiny and shampoo-repellent, had her practically rolling on the floor laughing.
“You know that isn’t true, Remus. You cast a damn good Imperturbable Charm - and you’re obviously one of the best wizards around. Like hell they’d be able to hear us!” As if to prove her point, Tonks slips a hand into her robes and pulls out a dungbomb. She lobs it at the area in front of her and watches it explode. Remus covers his nose as a putrid stench filters through the air, his shoulders sagging in defeat.
Why does she possess the special ability to make him blush with every word she says?
“Do you always carry a dungbomb in your pocket?” he asks incredulously, yet the amusement rings clear in his voice.
“You never know when you’ll come face to face with a bunch of pathetic Death Eaters, so yeah…” Tonks’s face assumes an innocent expression, and she winks at him.
“Right. I’m sure the Malfoys will feel terribly threatened.” He stands up from his place behind the bush they are hiding out in, and gestures at the high hedges that surround Lucius Malfoy’s manor. “Then again, his peacocks could always use a good scare.”
She launches herself at him before he has time to react. Remus feels himself toppling sideways into the pile of leaves, her fingers furiously assaulting him as she tries in vain to tickle him. Remus sniggers at her attempts, wondering if she will ever get it through her head that he is not ticklish at all. His laughter subsides when her gold and auburn hair falls into his face, and they are practically nose to nose, eyes boring into the other’s as their limbs entwine with the red and orange leaves fluttering around them.
Something shifts in the air around them, and Remus inhales sharply as Tonks closes her eyes and leans into him…
…Only to let out a small cry of pain.
“Bugger. I think I sprained my ankle.” Tonks winces, moving against him as she struggles to sit up. Remus pays no mind to the pangs of disappointment that crash over him at the loss of her touch and the feel of her petite body against his-
“Where does it hurt?” he says abruptly, sitting up and taking his wand out of his robes.
“Here.” She points to a spot in her ankle that swells with an angry shade of red. Remus points his wand over it and mutters a healing spell under his breath, and soon, her ankle looks flawless once more.
“Where’d you learn to do that so well?” she inquires, sounding genuinely amazed.
The blush that has taken up permanent residence in his cheeks grows deeper. “It’s useful to know some healing spells, especially when I wake up all sore and injured the morning after a full moon.”
He looks down, almost ashamed of his admission. His mind runs away with a million thoughts of just how can she stand to be near him, to touch him, laugh with him and not at him, and to make him feel so good about himself - when she is perfect, he is a beast, and-
Tonks plants a kiss on his cheek, his skin burning under the brief contact of her lips. “Thank you. Stop worrying about your ‘furry little problem’ and thinking that you’re useless. I know you, Remus. Now, just think about what I’d do if I didn’t have you…”
For the first time since his Hogwarts days, Remus throws caution to the wind and wonders how nice it might feel for his hands to skim over the soft fabric of her t-shirt. And so he allows his palms to settle on the small of her back, fingers knotting as he pulls her closer and gives her a smile that lights up his weary brown eyes. She nestles against him and pulls the Invisibility Cloak tight around them.
Days later, Sirius wonders why he walks around the desolate corridors of Grimmauld Place with a spring in his step, and it is all Remus can do to stop from grinning like an idiot.
IV. Trip
(n.) a stumble; misstep; any stimulating or exciting experience; any intense interest or preoccupation;
(v.) to cause to make a slip or error.
He knows that he has fallen in love with her one day after the full moon in December, when he looks blearily up at her holding a tray with a breakfast Molly Weasley has prepared, concern and anxiety written all over her face.
Under her gaze, he feels naked, even though he is covered by a heavy duvet. He sits up from the mattress on the floor, unable to grasp the vision before him. Innumerable emotions cloud over his mind at the sight of Tonks here, in the room they have equipped with bars and locks, with his vulnerability laid bare for her to see.
“Where’s Sirius?” he croaks, and he sees the hurt flash in her eyes. She sets the tray down on the floor and kneels, so she is almost at his eye level.
“Sirius is nursing quite a hangover this morning. I think he downed too much Firewhisky again… no wait, when doesn’t he?” Remus picks up on her nervous and pained tone, no matter how well she tries to hide it. “Apparently, after he’d made sure that you had enough food and water to get you by for the night, he let himself out and celebrated Harry and his friends’ upcoming return for the holidays with his best friend Ogden.”
He tries to smile, but his muscles do not cooperate. What little happiness Tonks wears on her face evaporates.
“I… wondered who’d be taking care of you. He managed to let me in after moonset before collapsing on the floor outside. I levitated him to his bed before coming here and covering you up. Don’t worry, I didn’t see anything I shouldn’t have…”
But she has seen everything she shouldn’t have. He says nothing as he pulls the duvet tighter around him, as though it can hide the disgusting mess he becomes every morning after the full moon; the blood stains on it do not exist, and his expression is stony, his eyes determinedly not meeting hers.
“Remus, I couldn’t stand not knowing how you were. I didn’t sleep at all last night. I rarely do during the full moon.” She reveals this with a desperate plea in her voice. “I mean, I know you’ve somehow taken care of yourself all these years, even without Sirius and the Wolfsbane Potion… but would it hurt to have someone take care of you for a change? I don’t mean mollycoddling, just…” The words die on her lips, and she looks away. Remus can see the tears glistening in her eyes.
Remus has always believed that anything could be achieved if one set his mind to it. So it follows that he is sure he can resist Nymphadora Tonks. It is simply a case of mind over matter. But he does not count his heart’s sudden entrance into the equation.
He has made a huge mistake in letting her get under his skin, and him growing closer to her in turn. He can only fool himself for so long, thinking that the furtive glances, “accidental” touches, and the inside jokes they exchange over Order meetings are just things that people with platonic relationships do. He cannot brush aside the sparks that ignite whenever they are within close proximity. He cannot escape from the light her mere presence brings in the darkness that resides in Number 12, Grimmauld Place and his and Sirius’ lives. He can only pretend in vain that her company, stories, opinion, and laughter do not mean anything to him (they mean everything).
Most of all, he cannot ignore her resilience.
But he also cannot ignore the fact that he is a werewolf.
Tonks thinks it is a trivial matter, and the way she treats the issue of his lycanthropy with such lenience that both elates and frightens him. She had found out from Sirius what he was not long after they first met, and Remus thinks back to this moment with a bittersweet sensation - her only reaction was “So what? I once had a crush on an actor in the Muggle movie, ‘An American Werewolf in London.’”
Sirius has been telling him for quite some time that Tonks fancies him, and Remus refuses to believe it, citing three reasons: he is too poor, too old, and too dangerous; therefore, things like gorgeous, young Aurors harboring crushes on him just do not happen in the real world. Sirius also has a reputation as a gifted prankster, so why would this be any different? Besides, Remus likes to think that he knows Tonks better than Sirius does. Although the three of them spend many nights together over Firewhisky and games of chess and Exploding Snap, it is Remus who uncannily ends up going on numerous missions for the Order with her, after all.
His convictions had been slowly shaken by the passing months. Remus had discovered a side of Tonks that he never expected: how serious and determined she is when she wants something. Thinking back, he should have anticipated this because he knows firsthand how stubborn she can be - a fine example being her perseverance in becoming an Auror in spite of her clumsiness and family ties. She often hints at wanting to speak about his condition, and he knows that it is more than mere curiosity that rouses her questions. And it is more than being uncomfortable with the topic that fuels his desire to change the subject.
He spotted her in the library a couple of times, poring over books on Dark creatures. He didn’t need to ask what creature in particular she was researching on. Questions and doubts burned at the back of Remus’ mind, but he ignored them, thinking that if he did not say anything, Tonks would stop nursing a passing interest in his being a werewolf. He then recalls how, long ago, he was faced with the very same situation in James, Peter, and Sirius. He remembers where their concern got them, and this is when he knows he cannot stop Tonks from caring about him.
And he knows he cannot stop himself from falling for her. But, he stubbornly repeats, it is worth a try. He will not let her be exposed to the kind of danger he possesses if he can help it.
So why is he so taken aback when the tears crowd her eyes and cascade down her cheeks?
It is too late, he realizes. He should have discerned early on that opening up to her would mean sharing all of what he was, and not just what he wanted her to see.
It is impossible to deny the pull she has over him. He likens it to the pull of the moon.
His face softens. He leans over to her, the blanket falling below his chest. His scars are raw and angry, but suddenly, they seem to be a little less painful.
It is inevitable that he would fall in love with her.
So he lets her know how he feels by wiping her tears with his thumbs, cupping her face delicately in his hands, and drawing her close. Their lips are mere inches apart. He aches to capture them with his own, but instead breathes the words, “Thank you, Nymphadora.”
He hopes the look in his eyes tells her everything else he does not have the courage to say.
V. Frolic
(n.) playful behavior or action;
(v.) to play in a frisky, light-spirited manner; romp.
He knows that there is nothing more that he wants than to take her into his arms and find somewhere private where they can dance to their own music.
It is February - Valentine’s Day in particular, the only other day besides the anniversary of James and Lily’s deaths that makes him want to stay in bed all day, depressed and brooding about the uselessness and the injustice in the world - not counting the days with a full moon, that is. He is aware that it might be taking things a little too far, comparing a day devoted to love to the death of his best friends and the betrayal of someone who he thought was his friend, but he believes he has a valid excuse - Cupid has not been kind to Remus Lupin, commercialized holiday or not.
Valentine’s Day always has a way of rubbing to his face everything he considered bad about himself - his poverty (he could barely afford bars of Honeydukes chocolate to satisfy his own craving, let alone a box of overpriced, heart-shaped candies - and what about the romantic dinner at a five-star restaurant?), his age (he was pretty sure the ladies saw an elderly lecher when he looked at them), definitely his lack of a love life (he didn’t count the crazy girls who thought werewolf sex was kinky). All in all, Valentine’s Day was not a good time to be a werewolf.
But this year, his outlook towards All Hearts’ Day and love in general has considerably improved. He sneaks a glance at the person responsible for his spirits lifting, his heart beating multiple times its normal rate, and is startled when he finds her looking back at him. He then proceeds to go back to giving the ground his full attention. The chatter around him continues to invade his ears, yet he only strains them for the sound of her voice.
Sirius’ little Valentine’s Day party is in full swing. Remus takes a break from staring at the floor at the sound of his best friend’s great, barking laughter. Their gazes meet, and Sirius nods at him before going back to his butterbeer, clutching his stomach as he howls with laughter at something Mundungus Fletcher has said. Remus concludes that they are comparing their “sexploits” again, whether imaginary or not. Remus is secretly thankful that Sirius has found a sort of drinking buddy in Mundungus, however filthy a slug he might be. He certainly could hold his liquor better than Remus could.
Remus has always appreciated his colleagues, feeling honored to be trusted by and to be working with esteemed and talented wizards who all had a common goal - Lord Voldemort’s defeat. Yet he feels even more grateful for them now, on this afternoon in February, where some of them are gathered in the basement kitchen of Grimmauld Place to celebrate Valentine’s Day.
It was Sirius’ idea, of course - with his need to find something to do to get rid of his boredom and combat his depression, he had asked Remus (with the aid of alcohol, surely) if he thought that having a small Order get-together for Valentine’s Day was a good idea. Upon hearing Sirius’ suggestion, Remus had immediately decided that the idea was utter bollocks - until Sirius explained himself further. They all needed a breather from the hard work they’d been doing lately, overwhelmed by recent events: the death of Broderick Bode and the mass breakout of the Death Eaters from Azkaban. Dumbledore would surely let them have Valentine’s Day off, Sirius had added, and they hadn’t had a party since Christmas. A good number of the Order members would probably come, given that not all of them were attached…
“Dumbledore coming is obviously out of the question, what with leading the Order and having to deal with Fudge and Umbridge’s shit. McGonagall, though I can’t think of anyone better who looks like she needs a Valentine’s shag, will be guarding the school along with the other teachers…” While Sirius was talking, Remus’ eyes had magnified to almost twice their normal size at the mention of ‘Minerva McGonagall’ and ‘shag’ in the same sentence.
Sirius continued as if he hadn’t seen Remus’ reaction. “Snape, there is no fucking way I’m letting him into this house again, the way he treats Harry…” His eyes darkened, but he prattled on. “Fleur and Bill will be celebrating with their own language of love, Molly and Arthur will probably be making another addition to the Weasley clan…”
That was where Remus drew the line. “Padfoot, I don’t think I want to discuss Arthur and Molly’s procreating habits.” Sirius just smirked.
“So we have Dedalus, Elphias, Mad-Eye, Hestia, Emmeline, Dung, Kingsley, and Charlie who look like they’ll be able to go!” he cheerfully declared, ticking their names off his fingers. “That’s definitely a good number of people for a party!”
“You’re forgetting someone,” Remus corrected him without thinking twice about the repercussions. “Tonks. Don’t you plan on inviting your own cousin to the party?”
A knowing grin spread across Sirius’ face, and it automatically made Remus wish he knew how to shut his mouth where Tonks was involved. “Right. Tonks. Of course she’s invited. I just assumed that you know, maybe she wouldn’t be free…”
“What makes you think she won’t be free?” Remus tried to ask as casually as he could, but the panic in his voice betrayed him.
“Oh, you know. The usual. I’m sure she’s got a lot of blokes lining up to take her out on dates. She is a beautiful young woman, independent and with a mind of her own. That’s very attractive, don’t you agree? Plus, she can change herself to satisfy a man’s fantasies,” Sirius mused. “If we weren’t related and I wasn’t trapped in this bloody house, I would definitely go for her.”
He didn’t know which of all of those statements horrified him the most. “Sirius, you wouldn’t do that. She’s, well… she’s…” Remus’ attempt at chiding his best friend was failing fabulously.
“Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it, Moony.” The smirk was back on Sirius’ face.
This was the one thing that Remus could declare with quiet confidence. “I would never ask her to change for me or be anyone else. She’s perfect the way she is.”
Remus hated how Sirius knew him too well, knew what buttons to push in order to get what he wanted from him. “I thought so. Marvelous, it’s settled then! You and Tonks, at my little Valentine’s party. Unless there’s somewhere else you’re planning to take her - by all means, go for it! I’ll even help pay for your date!”
Remus was too mortified to notice Sirius’ dig at his lack of finances. His cheeks were on fire. “It is not a date. We are not planning anything.”
Sirius raised an eyebrow in reply. “I don’t believe that for a second, Moony. But I want you to know I’m ready and willing to help you out…”
And this is why he has taken to standing beside the fireplace for most of the evening, digging his hands into his trousers as he watches the scene in front of him unfold: some members of the Order of the Phoenix are sipping various kinds of wine from the Black family cellar, eating the food and desserts that Molly insisted on preparing before she and Arthur headed out to enjoy themselves. Remus glances around at the ridiculous display of Valentine-themed decorations strewn around the normally gloomy kitchen - huge, frilly red hearts are plastered around the walls, fairies floating above their heads, the wireless’ dial fixed on Celestina Warbeck and her cauldron of hot, strong love… Remus thinks he will not hesitate to gag and take all these down in a second, if they do not make Sirius so happy.
Across from him, Tonks is sitting down in front of the long table, flanked by Kingsley Shacklebolt and Charlie Weasley. Kingsley’s deep voice resonates with laughter as he reacts to a story Mad-Eye is recounting, and Remus wonders if Mad-Eye had lost a buttock when he tried to woo someone. Charlie is clearly working hard to gain Tonks’s attention, and Remus can detect snatches of their conversation as he regales her with stories about his life in Romania. But Remus’ heart stops when he finally dares to let his gaze linger on Tonks, and once again finds her dark eyes staring straight back at him.
He can vaguely hear Hestia and Emmeline giggling at something that Dedalus Diggle has told them. The sounds of Celestina Warbeck’s crooning also reach his ears. Remus hears nothing from the noises in the background; nothing can distract him from the sudden resurrection of his heart, as it beats thunderously inside his chest. Neither of them has broken their gaze. No one else seems to notice, except for a confused Charlie, who then turns to engage Elphias Doge in conversation.
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Sirius excuse himself and grab two glasses, filled with a honey-colored liquid. He then saunters over to Tonks, taps her on the shoulder, and offers her the drink. Remus thinks he must be delusional in imagining that Tonks still manages to accept the drink and not tear her eyes away from his. He watches as her lips slide over the rim of the glass and she drains its contents. It takes him every ounce of self-restraint he possesses not to jump over the table and kiss her right there.
They had been treading on dangerous ground ever since that morning after the full moon where she first helped him, and he shared the part of himself to her that he had been attempting to hide from her. He still reprimands himself for not kissing her when he could’ve, especially at that moment when he thanked her. Remus had quickly thought that just because she cared for him, it didn’t necessarily mean that she loved him - that was enough to let him settle for a “thank you.” The look of disappointment on her face had haunted his dreams, however.
Although he was slightly more comfortable and less self-conscious whenever she went with Sirius to aid him during the day after the last full moon, something had shifted between them. It was as if that almost-kiss was a specter that hung over their heads, causing them to fumble their words and be awkward with each other for more than a month, even as they continued with their usual friendly routines. He didn’t know if he would be relieved or frustrated that they had been assigned on fewer missions together - the only good thing he got out of it was being able to focus more on the task at hand, without her presence driving him mad. Sirius had infuriatingly observed that the sexual tension between them was so thick, he could slice it with Gryffindor’s sword.
Remus has always denied that such a tension existed between them. Yet its reality stuns him as he glances back into her eyes, brimming with so much depth and emotion that he is sure is reflected in his own. He is brought back to reality by the sound of Sirius clearing his throat and pushing under his nose a glass of the same amber-colored liquid he offered to Tonks. Irritated by his best mate’s perpetually bad timing, Remus grabs the drink from him and gulps it down.
What happens next sets his world into a tailspin. He wobbles a bit as the drink shoots right up to his brain. How much of it did he drink, and what did Sirius put in it? He feels overwhelmed by a sudden surge of lust and love for the woman who is the only clear sight to his presently muddled brain. It is as though a dam has collapsed with the flood of all the sensations and emotions coursing through his veins. Remus chances a glance at Tonks.
Only to find her looking at him the same way.
There are no words needed. Sirius’ victorious grin fades into the background like the rest of their colleagues’ voices, and the hearts stuck on the walls become a blur. Tonks slips out of her chair and waves at Charlie, stumbling on her feet as she makes her way up the stairs with the occasional glance over her shoulder at him. Remus does not need any telling twice. As soon as she is out of the basement, he impatiently waits for a minute or two to pass before he follows her. He is restless with desire. And once he finally decides it is safe, he leaves the room, practically running.
He finds her in the sitting room. They stare at each other for a moment, before he steps in and gently closes the door behind him, directing his wand at it and locking it. She moves towards him, seemingly nervous as she places her hands on his shoulders. His arms snake around her waist as they crush her to his chest. She stands on tiptoe, and her lips are just a breath away. Both of them close their eyes and he leans towards her, closing the distance.
He doesn’t know who kissed who first, or who’s kissing the other harder. All Remus knows is that he’s kissing Tonks with everything he has, like it’s the only thing he knows how to do. The feel of her hands as they grip his shoulders makes his skin tingle, even underneath his jumper. The moistness of her soft lips against his own is enough for him to gently tease her mouth open with his tongue, and the little gasp of surprise she makes at his insistence sends waves of pleasure over him.
She responds eagerly to him; if the feel of her fingers as they rake through his hair is not real, then Remus never wants to wake up from the most fantastic dream he has ever had. Before he knows it, his fingers are exploring her body, trailing up and down her arms and soon tracing intricate patterns on her back, and her lips have claimed his neck. He is lost in a world of color and sensation, a world where in which only Tonks can lure him. He has often scoffed at people who compare kisses to fireworks exploding, but now Remus knows what they are talking about - and more. Kissing Tonks feels like a supernova exploding, and he is sure that he will see stars for a long time after this.
His fingers and mouth are moving entirely of their own volition. He cannot decide which need is more pressing - the urge to lose himself entirely in the sensations elicited by Tonks’s touch, or his own craving to rove his fingers all over her body. It is when she pulls away from another searing kiss and fumbles with his belt that Remus is jolted. His eyes widen and his fingers still their movement. It takes Tonks a moment to realize that he has stopped, and she ceases her attempts to undo his belt, looking up at him with questions in her eyes.
“Tonks… I…” Remus’ breath comes in ragged gasps, and his world is still spinning. “I’m sorry. I… you… we can’t do this.” The words come out of his mouth without any further thought. He throws his head back, wincing as the gravity of what just transpired weighs heavily on him.
Tonks inhales deeply and glares at him. “And why the hell not, Remus? I want it, and I can tell you obviously do, too.” She makes a not-so-subtle gesture at his trousers, where the evidence of his arousal betrays him.
He is still having a hard time breathing. “Tonks, listen to me. You don’t know what you’re talking about. You can’t want this.” His flaws are becoming clearer to him, almost as clear as the desire and hurt shining in her eyes. The next thing he says sounds pathetic to his own ears, but it is his only defense. “I’m a werewolf.”
“So what?” she yells, taking a step towards him. “You know I never cared about that.”
“So plenty! I care about it. You’re drunk. I… Sirius put something in that drink. When I find him, I’m going to castrate him…” Remus swears under his breath, but the joke is lost on Tonks. There is a desperate plea in her gaze that makes Remus suddenly decide that the floor is a more appealing thing to look at. He steps back, his hand finding the doorknob.
When she looks up at him with those dark eyes, he instantly knows what she is about to say. He inches towards the door and slowly opens it.
“Remus, I love-”
Her words are cut off by the slam of the door as it swings shut. His lips tingle at the memory of her kiss. He leans against it, bringing his hands to cover his face, and wonders what in the world they have just done.
VI. Stumble
(v.) to strike the foot against something, as in walking or running, so as to stagger or fall; to walk or go unsteadily; to falter or hesitate, as at an obstacle to progress or belief;
(n.) a slip.
He has always known that she would end up walking into his life, tripping over her feet, and making him fall head-over-heels in love as he tried to catch her.
Remus sits by her hospital bed at St. Mungo’s, his fingers tightly grasping her cold hand. There is a weak pulse, and he focuses on it, as though it is the only real thing in the world. Tonight, he feels as if he is living in a terrible nightmare where even the light of day cannot save him. Images from the battle at the Department of Mysteries flash in his mind, and he is powerless to shut them out. It is impossible that only mere hours have passed since he held Harry back from the veil, his heart breaking along with his voice as he restrained his best friends’ son and told him the one thing that almost killed him to say: “It’s too late, Harry - There’s nothing you can do, Harry… nothing. He’s gone.”
He has always been slightly jealous of the grace that Sirius exuded, whether in dueling or simply downing a glass of Firewhisky. Remus then remembers how Sirius carried his gracefulness to the point of falling through the archway. His last laugh echoes through Remus’ mind - the laugh that had not quite died, even as he fell through to his death.
His death. Remus shuts his eyes, willing the tears to come. He wants to weep, to mourn his best friend, to drown in sorrow over the fact that once again, he is alone. He feels like a desert, parched and empty with numbness. How… why is he sitting here, unscathed, watching over Tonks as she lay still, barely breathing? Sirius should be here - he deserved that, deserved his freedom after all he suffered for Harry. Twelve years in Azkaban for a crime he did not commit, another in incarceration in the very house that he despised. Remus suddenly thinks that being a werewolf is a small sacrifice compared to what Sirius had to endure. He was so close to freedom, while Remus would never be free. He cannot understand the injustice of it all. He should have died instead of Sirius - at the very least, the Order would have suffered less.
The Order has achieved one important thing - finally convincing the Ministry of Lord Voldemort’s return. But in the light of other events, he pushes that detail aside, wondering if all they have lost is truly worth it. Is anything worth this war? He allows himself a moment of weakness and selfishness, his shoulders sagging as he exhales. He cannot be a rock right now, not when his foundations are shaken and he does not know if anything can hold him together.
He sees his hand entwined with Tonks’s own. He takes in her pallid skin, the mousy brown hair plastered to her face, her closed eyes. He knows that this is the face she was born with, the one she shows only to those she trusts. Suddenly, he knows why he is here, why he is alive. He grips her hand tighter. It is his lifeline.
His heart constricts as he remembers how she fell after fighting Bellatrix Lestrange. Every time she had fallen, he had always been there to catch her. The one time he wasn’t there just had to be when Bellatrix decided to try and prune her precious family tree. He had been dueling with two Death Eaters; the cavernous room that housed the archway and the Department of Mysteries was in utter chaos, with cries of frustration and despair surrounding him, bright flashes of light in the air. Everything was a blur, and it was only when he heard Bellatrix’ triumphant shriek that he saw her fall from the stone steps. He felt like he was punched in the gut as he saw her limp form hit the stone seats as she toppled down.
He recalled every moment after that. Remus stood on the spot, paralyzed. He didn’t know who to go to first - Moody had already rushed to Tonks - oh God, oh God… what if something happened to her, and they never got the chance to fix things between them? - Sirius was dueling with Bellatrix, and Lucius Malfoy was threatening to attack Harry and Neville… His feet moved of their own volition towards his former students. Harry had aimed his wand at Malfoy and blasted him off his back, causing him to smash onto the dais where Sirius and Bellatrix where fighting. But before he could do any more harm to Neville and Harry, Remus leapt between them, his wand pointed at Malfoy’s face. Remus told Harry to gather his friends and go, while he started to duel with Malfoy-
Remembering what happened after that causes him to inhale sharply. He is suddenly aware of how much his arms hurt, after struggling to hold Harry back.
Sirius.
The pain of loss starts to swell in his chest. He cannot believe he did not even get a chance to say goodbye to him. He was taken away from them after a brief reunion, dying twice in Remus’ eyes - the first time, when he thought that he had betrayed them all. The second time-
He knows he should be used to loss by now. It is the story of his life.
His lifts his eyes and gazes at Tonks once more. Her skin is covered with bruises. He flinches, realizing that he has consciously continued to bruise her heart as well.
Sirius had always told him he was a daft prick for the way he treated Tonks after the heated kiss they shared on Valentine’s Day. Remus had put up a stubborn front, reiterating all his valid reasons. He blamed Sirius for starting it in the first place, for stoking the fire that existed between him and Tonks and watching gleefully as it consumed them for a moment. A moment that had changed everything between them, turned things more awkward than ever, and made unbearable almost four months of not working together if they could help it, tiptoeing around their feelings, and denying their desires. Yes, it was his fault. He let things go too far; her presence in his life led him to believe in the possibility of a happy future and almost made him forget that they were fighting a war. It just wasn’t the war against Voldemort - it was also the private war he fought with the monster living inside of him.
But now, he realizes he has also been waging a war against love - when he should be using love to gain an upper hand in the war. He and Tonks have become casualties when it wasn’t necessary, and he has wasted his energy in denying the existence of something that was always there, from the moment she stumbled into Grimmauld Place and complained about the evils of troll leg umbrella stands. He should have known it was inevitable.
He is tired of fighting.
Sirius had always boasted he was right about everything. And now, Remus believes he is.
He will not allow himself to lose her. She is the only thing left that is dear to him, and he knows that without her, there is no point in fighting this war, no point in living at all. He will not waste what Sirius has worked so hard to bring about, from the moment he recognized the chemistry between him and Tonks, and that his best friend deserved a chance to be happy. He had always joked about how they had better name one of their mutli-colored werewolf pups “Sirius.”
A ghost of a smile appears on his face. He knows that wherever Sirius is right now, he is looking down on them and smirking. Remus looks up and rolls his eyes, almost expecting to hear Sirius’ bark of laughter. He hopes that his best friend is happy where he is.
For the first time in his life after leaving Hogwarts, Remus Lupin feels like fate has bestowed a rare smile upon him. How many people are lucky enough to stumble onto love in the middle of the war, where there is hate, anguish, and destruction all around?
He raises her hand to his lips and brushes it with a feather-light kiss.
He tells her what he has been longing to say, even if she cannot hear it right then. That does not matter, for he will never tire of repeating the words and showing her exactly how he feels.
“I love you, Nymphadora.”
He looks up at her face, and even if her eyes are closed and she is unconscious, he thinks he sees her smiling.