Transfigured Hearts Update: Then Face To Face (2/2)
Title: Then Face To Face (2/2)
Author: MrsTater
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks
Summary: As Remus reacquaints himself with living among wizards, he feels himself softening to the persistent assertions of his friends that he is as entitled to that life as he always believed he was. The only problem is that the only life he wants is with Tonks, and she has, at last, heeded his insistence that they not see one another. When another full moon rises, he receives a sign from Tonks that speaks to a part of him no one, not even her, has yet reached. Will Remus, at last, see the light? Or will the darkest day the Order of the Phoenix has yet faced snuff it out?
Part One
Many thanks to Godricgal for her invaluable help with this very critical moment in the Transfigured Hearts timeline.
Part Two
Birds squawked and flapped, rustling the trees as the crack of Apparation startled them into flight.
The instant Remus materialised on the road to Hogwarts, he saw that the birds weren't the only creatures surprised by sound of his arrival. A few yards ahead of him on the road stood a slight, brown-haired witch cloaked in dark robes.
Nymphadora Tonks whipped to face him, wand at the ready.
As her gaze lit on him, her wand hand fell to her side, disappearing into her wide, draping sleeve. "You didn't Apparate straight to the gates?"
Her voice cracked a bit, as though with strain, but it could have been because she'd spoken over a distance. But as Remus approached and met her dark eyes, they darted away.
"Fancied a walk," he said, trying not to read anything into her furtiveness, which he was tempted to interpret as regret about the message she'd sent last night.
She wouldn't be waiting for him to catch up if she thought she'd made a mistake.
Unless she wanted to tell him it had been.
"It's such a pleasant evening," Remus continued quickly, "and since we will be cooped up inside all night on patrol…" He dragged a hand through his hair, pushing his fringe out of his eyes. "I always find fresh air is good for a think."
"So do I." Tonks glanced up at him with a slight smile as he caught up to her and they fell into step. Again, surprise laced her expression.
"Wotcher, Remus," she said softly.
"Hello. It's…" He dropped his eyes, suddenly ashamed. "It's been a while."
Tonks gave a vague hmm. He heard Arthur's frank voice: "She's leaving it up to you."
Remus drew a deep breath. "How have you been?"
Tonks caught her lower lip between her teeth, and a small but deep crease furrowed between her eyebrows. "Keeping busy."
She quickened her pace, as though to underscore her clipped syllables. There had been a catch in her voice this time, Remus was sure, despite the detachment of her words; he knew, as she drew away from him, face hidden, she was battling for control of her emotions. If she was, indeed, leaving it up to him, then he was, no doubt, disappointing her.
She loved him.
He ought to thank her for brewing his Potion in the midst of all her duties -- the extra duties he'd driven her to take on.
But everything caught in his chest and created a tight, suffocating sensation.
"Yes," he said flatly. "I've noticed."
His head drooped a little further forward, fringe falling into his eyes. He did not push it back. In his peripheral, he saw her dart a furtive glance at him. Why couldn't he tell her that he missed her, that he was sorry, that he was so grateful, that he loved her?
He could.
He'd said much more difficult things to her. Hurtful things. These words would heal. They would open up complex issues again, but he must say them.
He wanted to say them.
In a couple of strides he matched her again. Shoving his hair back, he began, "Tonks, I've--" as she, at the same time, asked, "How are you?"
If they'd had no history together, they might have shared a breathy, half-shy chuckle. As things were, the question hovered thickly. They'd been so close. It was criminal that they were reduced to this. Because of him.
Even as the thoughts tumbled pell-mell through his mind, Remus opened his mouth in an automatic reply of fine. Just in time, he bit it back. Now was not the time for pat answers. Now was the time for truth.
"I'm…" The one answer that resounded in his mind seemed equally trite. He turned to her and, hoping he could convey how deeply it was felt, said, "I'm well. Today."
Tonks looked up at him again, eyes squinting slightly in scrutiny, then widening again with surprise, and something else he couldn't identify. Hope? His own heart quickened at the prospect.
"You look well," she said. "Very well, the day after…" She looked away as her face went tomato red. "I mean…"
She stumbled, and her arms flailed. Remus caught her elbow to steady her.
"Thanks," Tonks muttered. "It's just last month--"
"I did not handle the last full moon well," Remus said for her, sparing her the struggle for tact, where none was merited.
She cast him a grateful look before he allowed his hand to slide away. Immediately Remus wished he hadn't let go. Somehow, it seemed easier, more appropriate, to be touching her when he said what he must. His fingers opened and closed at his side.
"Last night was very peaceful," said Remus.
He stopped resisting impulse, raised his hand, and laid it on Tonks' shoulder as he stopped walking. It rose as she inhaled sharply. She felt very thin as his long fingers curled over her shoulder, covering it completely. Oddly, though relief smoothed her lately lined features, her eyes did not flicker as he'd expected them to.
"I have you to thank for that."
Tonks' mouth fell open, and her eyebrows knit even as she dropped her gaze.
Remus shifted his weight. Why did she look like a person who'd just run into an old acquaintance she was wracking her brain to remember?
"Your Patronus," he elaborated quietly, "has a soothing effect."
It took a moment of her studying the ground very hard, but at last comprehension dawned on Tonks' face. "My werewolf." Her voice was barely a whisper, and Remus almost missed it. She was very pale.
Now it was Remus' turn to feel perplexed, and whatever it was inside him that had burned with nervous expectation -- and hope -- last night, promptly extinguished and sank, leaden, into his stomach.
She had not intended her Patronus as a sign. She had sent it as a messenger only. Not that Remus wasn't touched by her concern, by her love, but…
Silently cursing himself for creating his own symbol and attaching his own meaning to it, he turned and strode briskly ahead of her. They had a patrol tonight, he reminded himself as he shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his robes. Now was not the time to discuss their relationship.
He heard Tonks' boots scuffing on the gravel as she hurried after him. "I'm so used to it," she panted, "I forget sometimes it's not the one I always had." Her shoulder brushed his as she caught up, though her shorter legs made two strides for every one of his. "I'm sorry," she said softly, eyes on the path again. "I know you didn't want to see it."
Remus' gait slowed. She was talking about Christmas, when she'd offered to show him her Patronus. He'd refused, still too shocked and horrified by the revelation of how drastically their separation had affected her magic to be able to face a tainted spirit guardian. Glancing at her, he saw her cheeks dimpled in a look that spoke clearly of self-chastisement.
Though he still could not work out what to do with his interpretation of the Patronus, and he tasted the bitterness of the truth, he couldn't bear to let Tonks think she'd made him uncomfortable, when she'd done just the opposite.
And he had decided that they needed to talk. Though he could see the tops of the gates over the trees -- now was hardly the time…
"He's quite affectionate," said Remus. "And he…gives a peaceful aura."
For a moment Tonks' mouth hung open slightly, but slowly her face relaxed again in a faint smile, but he didn't miss her shaking fingers as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I didn't know Patronuses could do that for anyone but the caster."
She looked at him, as though expecting him to give a lecture on Patronuses, but he didn't know what to say. The affect of romantic love upon this sort of magic was entirely beyond Remus' realm of experience.
"He's a good Patronus," Tonks said. Eyes darting sidelong at him, she added, "Not surprising, since he's you."
Remus faltered, but forced himself to keep walking.
It was impossible, after having seen and felt the comforting presence of Tonks' spirit guardian to continue believing that its form meant it was a corrupted protector. But him? He had abandoned her, rejected her, hurt and failed her at every turn this year. How could he be her protector?
"Remus," Tonks' voice -- raw, pleading -- broke into his thoughts. "Will you ever stop denying what this means?"
"I'm not -- I mean…" Beside him, her footsteps rapidly crunched the gravel. Remus had not realised he'd quickened his own pace. He didn't slow, even though she was puffing beside him, fairly trotting to keep up. "I don't know what to think."
Tonks stopped behind him. Remus glanced over his shoulder. She froze him with a glare, then barrelled past him.
"Have you forgotten our first date?" she flung back.
"We picnicked in the park near St. Mungo's," Remus said, following slowly. "I told you about Neville Longbottom's boggart. You laughed so hard you cried. Your makeup ran down your face, but I…" His words caught in his chest, stopped by the lump that had lodged suddenly and painfully in his throat. But he felt his lips twitch into a smile. "I thought you were the most beautiful witch I'd ever had the good fortune to go out with."
At the gates now, Tonks pulled up short, shoulders stiff and thrown back in defiance. Then she heaved a sigh, her small body sagged, and she leant against them.
"Madam Pomfrey saw us," she said with too much calm for it to be genuine, "and you got funny about what she thought of us."
Remus hung his head. He nudged a random red pebble with the worn toe of his shoe.
"Do you remember what I said to you?" she asked.
Remus looked up to find her facing him, arms folded across her chest.
"I think too much."
"Stop thinking."
Eyes downcast again, Remus saw her boots marching toward him, stopping so close that her robes swished against his. He tucked his chin further in as she turned her face up to his.
"Stop thinking about what other werewolves are like and every worst case scenario and all the bloody reasons why you shouldn't be with me, and look me in the eye and see who you are and all the reasons that you should."
"I don't see how your situation's changed," Arthur had said.
Was the change in Remus' perception? Had he created the change?
"Remus -- look at me."
He'd known from the beginning that he'd nothing to offer her except the assurance that he would treat her well, and be faithful, and show his love to the best of his ability. Wasn't that all she'd ever asked for? Couldn't he believe that was enough -- and would be enough?
He would do it. He would look into her eyes and see love and trust and forgiveness…
…when a resounding crack split the air, and he and Tonks span to see Bill Weasley.
His hands reached round the back of his head, tightening his long ponytail which gleamed like polished copper in the rosy glow of the setting sun. "'Lo Remus, Tonks. Ready to patrol?" He flashed his wide, handsome grin. "Bit like Prefect days again, eh?"
"I wouldn't know," said Tonks, turning on her heel and flicking her wand toward the gates. "I'll let Hagrid know we're all here."
Remus vaguely noted that she was shooting him a we're-not-finished look, but he merely nodded absently at her.
He could not take his eyes off the beautiful, silvery werewolf bounding over the castle walls.
Dumbledore, dead.
Remus had collapsed into a chair when Ginny and Harry first relayed the horrible news. He reeled again now as Arthur received it.
Dumbledore…dead.
For an instant, Remus considered the impulse to take Tonks' hand, to lean on her for the support he knew she would offer, as she had a year ago, when it was Sirius who'd died…He'd been too afraid of burdening her to accept…
The notion was driven from his head as Molly, dear Molly, who all year had encouraged…
…harped…
…nagged him to pursue the woman he loved, tearfully declared her own son unable to marry.
One did not have to be a monster, like Fenrir Greyback, to be ostracised. One did not have to be a full werewolf at all, like Remus Lupin.
They were all tainted, and cut off.
Remus could not deny how very brave Fleur was to defy Molly, or how his heart constricted with wanting Tonks to do the same--
She was shaking his robes, resuming their conversation as though it hadn't been interrupted by anything, much less Dumbledore dying, begging him to lift his eyes from the floor and look at her and see that she didn't care, either, she didn't care.
Dear Merlin…She was all he'd ever wanted. Someone whose eyes he could look into, and see--
He couldn't. He could not meet her eyes, not now. He would be lost if he did, would be unable to resist the arms she would open to him. He was too vulnerable now, too off-balance. He hadn't known before the battle whether he could be with her, and the battle had changed everything. It would be so easy to turn to her for comfort…He nearly had done after the werewolves savaged the Montgomery child…The comfort of her hands, her lips would not have changed a thing then; nor could it do now.
He'd told her a million times…He was too old for her, too poor…too dangerous…
He was not being ridiculous. Molly was the one changing her opinions as rapidly as Tonks used to change her hair, and Tonks was the one who stubbornly refused to see--
In his peripheral, he saw Fleur's silvery-gold hair falling over Bill as she dabbed ointment on his wounds. His cursed wounds. Inflicted by Fenrir Greyback.
A dangerous man, with the feral mind of a wolf.
Remus Lupin could never do that.
Even last night, in wolf form, he had remained himself -- human -- and could never do that.
He was the stubborn one. He didn't deserve her.
She wanted him anyway.
Wanted him.
Chose him -- over the young, and the whole.
She was looking at him. They were all looking at him, and he could not meet their eyes. Not now.
This…really was not the time to discuss it. Dumbledore was dead.
But…
Dumbledore would have been happier than anyone to think there was a little more love in the world.
Blue eyes twinkled behind half-moon spectacles. No matter how many times Remus failed him, Dumbledore still looked upon him with those kindly eyes, and given him another responsibility, and wished him well.
As a wizard.
As a man.
Minerva's voice again broke into his thoughts, this time addressing Hagrid about Heads of Houses, pulling herself together to cope with what must be done now, in the aftermath.
As she and Harry exited the Hospital Wing, Remus heard a disembodied request to escort the children back to their dormitories.
He looked up.
His eyes met Tonks' dark ones…
…and held.
There was clarity in her earnest expression. The understanding he read on her face was mingled with something else:
Hope.
The smouldering ember inside rekindled.
In that moment, the million conversations and fragmented thoughts and feelings that pitted heart against mind and ran too deep to give names to, came together and were consumed…
…burned…
…until nothing remained but one, new thing:
Remus knew what he had to do, knew what was right.
"Help me, Nymphadora?"
Her eyes shone.
Love for a wizard. Trust in a man.
Forgiveness for failure.
Another chance.
He had much to put right and sort out.
If tonight had taught him anything, it was that now was the time to discuss it.
The End
A/N: Next up, the last installment of the Transfigured Hearts series, which answers the question: What happens between the hospital scene and the funeral to make Tonks' hair go pink again?
There will be a bit of delay before I conclude Transfigured Hearts, due to a month-long fic challenge at MetamorFic_Moon. I'm planning on a multi-parter with, um, pay-off. Lots of payoff. ::grin:: Until then, know that I really do appreciate each and every one of you who have followed Transfigured Hearts. Your support and feedback have been tremendously encouraging. I'm just a bit flummoxed that what I thought would be five or six short fics has turned into what will be thirty stories, some short, some multi-chaptered. I'm fairly certain the series never would have grown to such proportions without y'all. Thanks for making this so much fun for me, and helping me get to know Remus and Tonks better.
Since at this point it would be a little cruel to poor Tonks to offer anybody but her a Remus, reviewers get the opportunity to help Remus figure out how to get that hair pink again.
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Author: MrsTater
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks
Summary: As Remus reacquaints himself with living among wizards, he feels himself softening to the persistent assertions of his friends that he is as entitled to that life as he always believed he was. The only problem is that the only life he wants is with Tonks, and she has, at last, heeded his insistence that they not see one another. When another full moon rises, he receives a sign from Tonks that speaks to a part of him no one, not even her, has yet reached. Will Remus, at last, see the light? Or will the darkest day the Order of the Phoenix has yet faced snuff it out?
Part One
Many thanks to Godricgal for her invaluable help with this very critical moment in the Transfigured Hearts timeline.
Part Two
Birds squawked and flapped, rustling the trees as the crack of Apparation startled them into flight.
The instant Remus materialised on the road to Hogwarts, he saw that the birds weren't the only creatures surprised by sound of his arrival. A few yards ahead of him on the road stood a slight, brown-haired witch cloaked in dark robes.
Nymphadora Tonks whipped to face him, wand at the ready.
As her gaze lit on him, her wand hand fell to her side, disappearing into her wide, draping sleeve. "You didn't Apparate straight to the gates?"
Her voice cracked a bit, as though with strain, but it could have been because she'd spoken over a distance. But as Remus approached and met her dark eyes, they darted away.
"Fancied a walk," he said, trying not to read anything into her furtiveness, which he was tempted to interpret as regret about the message she'd sent last night.
She wouldn't be waiting for him to catch up if she thought she'd made a mistake.
Unless she wanted to tell him it had been.
"It's such a pleasant evening," Remus continued quickly, "and since we will be cooped up inside all night on patrol…" He dragged a hand through his hair, pushing his fringe out of his eyes. "I always find fresh air is good for a think."
"So do I." Tonks glanced up at him with a slight smile as he caught up to her and they fell into step. Again, surprise laced her expression.
"Wotcher, Remus," she said softly.
"Hello. It's…" He dropped his eyes, suddenly ashamed. "It's been a while."
Tonks gave a vague hmm. He heard Arthur's frank voice: "She's leaving it up to you."
Remus drew a deep breath. "How have you been?"
Tonks caught her lower lip between her teeth, and a small but deep crease furrowed between her eyebrows. "Keeping busy."
She quickened her pace, as though to underscore her clipped syllables. There had been a catch in her voice this time, Remus was sure, despite the detachment of her words; he knew, as she drew away from him, face hidden, she was battling for control of her emotions. If she was, indeed, leaving it up to him, then he was, no doubt, disappointing her.
She loved him.
He ought to thank her for brewing his Potion in the midst of all her duties -- the extra duties he'd driven her to take on.
But everything caught in his chest and created a tight, suffocating sensation.
"Yes," he said flatly. "I've noticed."
His head drooped a little further forward, fringe falling into his eyes. He did not push it back. In his peripheral, he saw her dart a furtive glance at him. Why couldn't he tell her that he missed her, that he was sorry, that he was so grateful, that he loved her?
He could.
He'd said much more difficult things to her. Hurtful things. These words would heal. They would open up complex issues again, but he must say them.
He wanted to say them.
In a couple of strides he matched her again. Shoving his hair back, he began, "Tonks, I've--" as she, at the same time, asked, "How are you?"
If they'd had no history together, they might have shared a breathy, half-shy chuckle. As things were, the question hovered thickly. They'd been so close. It was criminal that they were reduced to this. Because of him.
Even as the thoughts tumbled pell-mell through his mind, Remus opened his mouth in an automatic reply of fine. Just in time, he bit it back. Now was not the time for pat answers. Now was the time for truth.
"I'm…" The one answer that resounded in his mind seemed equally trite. He turned to her and, hoping he could convey how deeply it was felt, said, "I'm well. Today."
Tonks looked up at him again, eyes squinting slightly in scrutiny, then widening again with surprise, and something else he couldn't identify. Hope? His own heart quickened at the prospect.
"You look well," she said. "Very well, the day after…" She looked away as her face went tomato red. "I mean…"
She stumbled, and her arms flailed. Remus caught her elbow to steady her.
"Thanks," Tonks muttered. "It's just last month--"
"I did not handle the last full moon well," Remus said for her, sparing her the struggle for tact, where none was merited.
She cast him a grateful look before he allowed his hand to slide away. Immediately Remus wished he hadn't let go. Somehow, it seemed easier, more appropriate, to be touching her when he said what he must. His fingers opened and closed at his side.
"Last night was very peaceful," said Remus.
He stopped resisting impulse, raised his hand, and laid it on Tonks' shoulder as he stopped walking. It rose as she inhaled sharply. She felt very thin as his long fingers curled over her shoulder, covering it completely. Oddly, though relief smoothed her lately lined features, her eyes did not flicker as he'd expected them to.
"I have you to thank for that."
Tonks' mouth fell open, and her eyebrows knit even as she dropped her gaze.
Remus shifted his weight. Why did she look like a person who'd just run into an old acquaintance she was wracking her brain to remember?
"Your Patronus," he elaborated quietly, "has a soothing effect."
It took a moment of her studying the ground very hard, but at last comprehension dawned on Tonks' face. "My werewolf." Her voice was barely a whisper, and Remus almost missed it. She was very pale.
Now it was Remus' turn to feel perplexed, and whatever it was inside him that had burned with nervous expectation -- and hope -- last night, promptly extinguished and sank, leaden, into his stomach.
She had not intended her Patronus as a sign. She had sent it as a messenger only. Not that Remus wasn't touched by her concern, by her love, but…
Silently cursing himself for creating his own symbol and attaching his own meaning to it, he turned and strode briskly ahead of her. They had a patrol tonight, he reminded himself as he shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his robes. Now was not the time to discuss their relationship.
He heard Tonks' boots scuffing on the gravel as she hurried after him. "I'm so used to it," she panted, "I forget sometimes it's not the one I always had." Her shoulder brushed his as she caught up, though her shorter legs made two strides for every one of his. "I'm sorry," she said softly, eyes on the path again. "I know you didn't want to see it."
Remus' gait slowed. She was talking about Christmas, when she'd offered to show him her Patronus. He'd refused, still too shocked and horrified by the revelation of how drastically their separation had affected her magic to be able to face a tainted spirit guardian. Glancing at her, he saw her cheeks dimpled in a look that spoke clearly of self-chastisement.
Though he still could not work out what to do with his interpretation of the Patronus, and he tasted the bitterness of the truth, he couldn't bear to let Tonks think she'd made him uncomfortable, when she'd done just the opposite.
And he had decided that they needed to talk. Though he could see the tops of the gates over the trees -- now was hardly the time…
"He's quite affectionate," said Remus. "And he…gives a peaceful aura."
For a moment Tonks' mouth hung open slightly, but slowly her face relaxed again in a faint smile, but he didn't miss her shaking fingers as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I didn't know Patronuses could do that for anyone but the caster."
She looked at him, as though expecting him to give a lecture on Patronuses, but he didn't know what to say. The affect of romantic love upon this sort of magic was entirely beyond Remus' realm of experience.
"He's a good Patronus," Tonks said. Eyes darting sidelong at him, she added, "Not surprising, since he's you."
Remus faltered, but forced himself to keep walking.
It was impossible, after having seen and felt the comforting presence of Tonks' spirit guardian to continue believing that its form meant it was a corrupted protector. But him? He had abandoned her, rejected her, hurt and failed her at every turn this year. How could he be her protector?
"Remus," Tonks' voice -- raw, pleading -- broke into his thoughts. "Will you ever stop denying what this means?"
"I'm not -- I mean…" Beside him, her footsteps rapidly crunched the gravel. Remus had not realised he'd quickened his own pace. He didn't slow, even though she was puffing beside him, fairly trotting to keep up. "I don't know what to think."
Tonks stopped behind him. Remus glanced over his shoulder. She froze him with a glare, then barrelled past him.
"Have you forgotten our first date?" she flung back.
"We picnicked in the park near St. Mungo's," Remus said, following slowly. "I told you about Neville Longbottom's boggart. You laughed so hard you cried. Your makeup ran down your face, but I…" His words caught in his chest, stopped by the lump that had lodged suddenly and painfully in his throat. But he felt his lips twitch into a smile. "I thought you were the most beautiful witch I'd ever had the good fortune to go out with."
At the gates now, Tonks pulled up short, shoulders stiff and thrown back in defiance. Then she heaved a sigh, her small body sagged, and she leant against them.
"Madam Pomfrey saw us," she said with too much calm for it to be genuine, "and you got funny about what she thought of us."
Remus hung his head. He nudged a random red pebble with the worn toe of his shoe.
"Do you remember what I said to you?" she asked.
Remus looked up to find her facing him, arms folded across her chest.
"I think too much."
"Stop thinking."
Eyes downcast again, Remus saw her boots marching toward him, stopping so close that her robes swished against his. He tucked his chin further in as she turned her face up to his.
"Stop thinking about what other werewolves are like and every worst case scenario and all the bloody reasons why you shouldn't be with me, and look me in the eye and see who you are and all the reasons that you should."
"I don't see how your situation's changed," Arthur had said.
Was the change in Remus' perception? Had he created the change?
"Remus -- look at me."
He'd known from the beginning that he'd nothing to offer her except the assurance that he would treat her well, and be faithful, and show his love to the best of his ability. Wasn't that all she'd ever asked for? Couldn't he believe that was enough -- and would be enough?
He would do it. He would look into her eyes and see love and trust and forgiveness…
…when a resounding crack split the air, and he and Tonks span to see Bill Weasley.
His hands reached round the back of his head, tightening his long ponytail which gleamed like polished copper in the rosy glow of the setting sun. "'Lo Remus, Tonks. Ready to patrol?" He flashed his wide, handsome grin. "Bit like Prefect days again, eh?"
"I wouldn't know," said Tonks, turning on her heel and flicking her wand toward the gates. "I'll let Hagrid know we're all here."
Remus vaguely noted that she was shooting him a we're-not-finished look, but he merely nodded absently at her.
He could not take his eyes off the beautiful, silvery werewolf bounding over the castle walls.
Dumbledore, dead.
Remus had collapsed into a chair when Ginny and Harry first relayed the horrible news. He reeled again now as Arthur received it.
Dumbledore…dead.
For an instant, Remus considered the impulse to take Tonks' hand, to lean on her for the support he knew she would offer, as she had a year ago, when it was Sirius who'd died…He'd been too afraid of burdening her to accept…
The notion was driven from his head as Molly, dear Molly, who all year had encouraged…
…harped…
…nagged him to pursue the woman he loved, tearfully declared her own son unable to marry.
One did not have to be a monster, like Fenrir Greyback, to be ostracised. One did not have to be a full werewolf at all, like Remus Lupin.
They were all tainted, and cut off.
Remus could not deny how very brave Fleur was to defy Molly, or how his heart constricted with wanting Tonks to do the same--
She was shaking his robes, resuming their conversation as though it hadn't been interrupted by anything, much less Dumbledore dying, begging him to lift his eyes from the floor and look at her and see that she didn't care, either, she didn't care.
Dear Merlin…She was all he'd ever wanted. Someone whose eyes he could look into, and see--
He couldn't. He could not meet her eyes, not now. He would be lost if he did, would be unable to resist the arms she would open to him. He was too vulnerable now, too off-balance. He hadn't known before the battle whether he could be with her, and the battle had changed everything. It would be so easy to turn to her for comfort…He nearly had done after the werewolves savaged the Montgomery child…The comfort of her hands, her lips would not have changed a thing then; nor could it do now.
He'd told her a million times…He was too old for her, too poor…too dangerous…
He was not being ridiculous. Molly was the one changing her opinions as rapidly as Tonks used to change her hair, and Tonks was the one who stubbornly refused to see--
In his peripheral, he saw Fleur's silvery-gold hair falling over Bill as she dabbed ointment on his wounds. His cursed wounds. Inflicted by Fenrir Greyback.
A dangerous man, with the feral mind of a wolf.
Remus Lupin could never do that.
Even last night, in wolf form, he had remained himself -- human -- and could never do that.
He was the stubborn one. He didn't deserve her.
She wanted him anyway.
Wanted him.
Chose him -- over the young, and the whole.
She was looking at him. They were all looking at him, and he could not meet their eyes. Not now.
This…really was not the time to discuss it. Dumbledore was dead.
But…
Dumbledore would have been happier than anyone to think there was a little more love in the world.
Blue eyes twinkled behind half-moon spectacles. No matter how many times Remus failed him, Dumbledore still looked upon him with those kindly eyes, and given him another responsibility, and wished him well.
As a wizard.
As a man.
Minerva's voice again broke into his thoughts, this time addressing Hagrid about Heads of Houses, pulling herself together to cope with what must be done now, in the aftermath.
As she and Harry exited the Hospital Wing, Remus heard a disembodied request to escort the children back to their dormitories.
He looked up.
His eyes met Tonks' dark ones…
…and held.
There was clarity in her earnest expression. The understanding he read on her face was mingled with something else:
Hope.
The smouldering ember inside rekindled.
In that moment, the million conversations and fragmented thoughts and feelings that pitted heart against mind and ran too deep to give names to, came together and were consumed…
…burned…
…until nothing remained but one, new thing:
Remus knew what he had to do, knew what was right.
"Help me, Nymphadora?"
Her eyes shone.
Love for a wizard. Trust in a man.
Forgiveness for failure.
Another chance.
He had much to put right and sort out.
If tonight had taught him anything, it was that now was the time to discuss it.
The End
A/N: Next up, the last installment of the Transfigured Hearts series, which answers the question: What happens between the hospital scene and the funeral to make Tonks' hair go pink again?
There will be a bit of delay before I conclude Transfigured Hearts, due to a month-long fic challenge at MetamorFic_Moon. I'm planning on a multi-parter with, um, pay-off. Lots of payoff. ::grin:: Until then, know that I really do appreciate each and every one of you who have followed Transfigured Hearts. Your support and feedback have been tremendously encouraging. I'm just a bit flummoxed that what I thought would be five or six short fics has turned into what will be thirty stories, some short, some multi-chaptered. I'm fairly certain the series never would have grown to such proportions without y'all. Thanks for making this so much fun for me, and helping me get to know Remus and Tonks better.
Since at this point it would be a little cruel to poor Tonks to offer anybody but her a Remus, reviewers get the opportunity to help Remus figure out how to get that hair pink again.
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