["Kaleidoscope" update] Moving Forward
I guess it must really be summer, if I'm posting fic! Heh. It has been a while.
Anyway, this is a Kaleidoscope installment from early in DH. As always, it's intended to stand on its own, but for people who are keeping track of the series, it picks up an hour or so after the end of All That I Am.
Moving Forward (2847 words | PG-13/intimate situations)
Remus has come home, but Tonks needs to work out how they can fit themselves together again.
Moving Forward
Tonks woke slowly, feeling groggy. She blinked at the bright light streaming through the windows and wondered, for a moment, why she was in bed in the middle of the day.
But then she felt the soft weight of a hand resting on her hip, and her breath caught.
Remus.
Something warm, like summer sunshine, swelled in her chest. She didn’t quite know if it was joy, or just relief, but either way it made her smile a little.
Remus had come home again.
It wasn’t his leaving that had made her so angry. As soon as the last Death Eater had fired a last sullen hex at the Weasleys’ wedding tent and Disapparated, Remus had promised Molly and Arthur he would go looking for Harry and the others-and that made sense.
Until later that night, when they found out about the baby.
After that, nothing made sense. Not the way Remus turned cold and distant in the space of a heartbeat-not the way he’d gone off saying things that left Tonks to wonder if he would ever come back. Not even the way he had finally turned up again yesterday, sidling around her parents’ house all wary and hesitant.
But this morning, at last, they had talked. Remus had made new promises. And... they had ended up in bed, in the middle of the day.
Maybe things were going to be all right, this time.
Tonks started to roll over, wanting to cuddle as close as she could and soothe the places in her heart that were still raw.
Unfortunately, moving reminded her stomach that it was not on particularly good terms with the rest of her.
Cursing under her breath, she scrambled out of bed, nearly tripping on the end of a sheet that trailed across the floor where one of them had kicked it. She pulled an oversized T-shirt over her head and dashed for the loo, making it just in time.
Even before she had finished retching, Remus was there, squatting behind her. His strong hands rubbed her back until her stomach stopped heaving. Then he Summoned a flannel, dampened it, and handed it to her, just as he had done that morning.
This time, after she had wiped her face, she let herself lean back against him.
He stroked her shoulders with his thumbs and kissed her softly just behind her left ear.
She sighed, feeling awfully content for someone who was kneeling on the floor in the loo.
“You ought to eat something,” Remus murmured. “You never had any breakfast, and now it’s past noon. I’ll go down and make you some more tea, and maybe some toast. All right?”
She nodded, feeling the bubble of sunlight in her chest again.
He kissed her behind the other ear. Then he stood and helped her to her feet before disappearing down the stairs.
. * . * .
When Tonks came down a few minutes later, she found a steaming cup of peppermint tea, a rack of perfectly browned toast, and a pot of marmalade waiting for her. Remus sat at the kitchen table holding another cup of tea, and he smiled at her across his own little cloud of steam.
She smiled back. “Just what I need.” Taking a piece of toast, she added a dollop of marmalade.
Only, as she watched Remus sip at his tea, her smile faded, and her eyebrows drew together.
This business of being looked after had to work both ways.
“You’ll have a sandwich or something, won’t you?” she asked. “You didn’t have any breakfast this morning, either.”
His face, so open and relaxed since they woke up together, began to close off again.
“Madam Pomfrey was right, you know,” she persisted. “If you make yourself sick, you won’t be much good to the Order.” She tried a tentative grin. “Or to the baby, either.”
His lips pressed tightly together, and for a moment she was afraid that she had pushed him too far. But then he sighed and nodded, smiling a little.
“I’ll go out tomorrow,” he said, setting out some cheese to slice, “and find a job. A Muggle job.”
It sounded like he was changing the topic, but as Tonks watched him assemble a sandwich from bread Dad had baked and cheese Mum had bought, she knew that he wasn’t.
“A Muggle job?” she asked, licking marmalade from her fingers. “You’re not fussed that that’s illegal?”
Remus huffed something that might have been meant as a laugh. “The Order is illegal. Your being married to me is illegal. We’re about to start spiriting Muggle-borns out of the country when the Ministry isn’t looking-completely illegal. I’m hardly going to worry about the Non-Magical Employment Laws at the moment.”
He did have a point.
“Maybe I should get one, too,” she said, wondering where to start looking.
“I think it’s better if you don’t, actually.”
Her head snapped up in disbelief. Surely Remus didn’t think she’d be unable to handle a Muggle job?
But his gaze met hers soberly. “The Order needs you more than anyone right now. The Death Eaters know what all the rest of us look like, thanks to Snape, so you’re the only one who’s any use for surveillance without an Invisibility Cloak.”
“Ah.” She nodded, thinking it through. “You’re probably right. Assuming I stop all this throwing up, of course...”
Remus sat down at the table with his sandwich, but he made no move to pick it up, staring at it for so long that Tonks began to worry again.
Until, that is, he looked up at her with a decidedly Marauderish grin-an expression she hadn’t seen from him nearly often enough since Sirius died.
“I’ve just had an idea,” he said. “I’ll have to talk to Arthur, but I think I know a way to earn some money and start getting the Muggle-borns out at the same time.”
“I think I’ll try a cheese sandwich, too,” was all Tonks said in reply, but as she stood up from the table, her own grin was back.
Maybe things really, truly were going to be all right this time.
. * . * .
They spent the rest of the day immersed in the piles of student records that Minerva had smuggled out of Hogwarts, trying to work out which of the current students were Muggle-born and where they might be found now, in August. But the grim and tedious task lightened a little every time Tonks looked up and saw her husband sitting across from her at the table-every time he reached over and brushed his fingers against hers.
At seven, they stopped working and went to heat up a cauldronful of pea soup for supper. Remus started to slice some bread, but when Tonks caught his eye, he sent her a half-shy little smile that went straight to her heart. She pulled him into a sudden fierce hug, burying her face in his shoulder, hungry for the soothing warmth of his arms around her and the touch of his cheek against her hair.
And then came the sound of a key in the lock. The front door opened and closed. Remus stiffened, letting his arms fall away.
Tonks gave him one last squeeze and went to poke at the soup with a fat wooden spoon. He always seemed reluctant to show affection in front of Mum or Dad, and given how uncomfortable things were between Remus and her parents just now, she couldn’t really blame him.
“It’s only me, Nymphadora,” came Mum’s voice. “Your father is working late tonight.”
Mum swept into the kitchen with exactly the sort of careless grace that Tonks would never achieve, not in a million years, and kissed her on the cheek.
“Hello, Andromeda,” said Remus. His voice was quiet, but he stood tall, met Mum’s frosty gaze with a level look of his own, and produced a steady, polite smile. “Dinner’s nearly ready.”
“Hello, Remus.” Mum inclined her head, rather regally. “Still here, I see.”
Tonks winced. She waited for Remus to turn stiff and silent, to withdraw somewhere inside himself.
Instead, his smile merely took on a wry tinge. “Yes,” he said quietly, “I am.” He turned back to the bread and raised his wand. “Just let me cut a few more slices, and we can eat.”
Tonks stared.
This was the Remus of her early days in the Order-calm and unflappable. This wasn’t the man who had been thrown so cruelly off-balance by the death of his best friend and the demands of an impossible mission, or the man who had been all but consumed by bitter shame when their marriage had cost Tonks her job and her flat and sent them here to her parents’ with nowhere else to go. The real Remus was back.
And then she happened to glance at the hand that held his wand as he sliced the bread.
His knuckles were white.
. * . * .
Absently chewing on the remnants of a Toothflossing Stringmint, Tonks padded into the bedroom. She found Remus at the open window, looking out over the pond that shone violet in the gathering dusk.
She went to stand beside him. He was very still, and his face was calm, but she didn’t even need to touch him to feel how tense he was.
It had been a long evening, and the strain had roiled behind his careful facade all through dinner. Even so, he hadn’t let the calm courtesy slip, not once.
She put a hand tentatively on his shoulder. His eyes closed for an instant, and she thought he might have relaxed, just a fraction.
“I’m sorry about Mum,” she said, softly. “She’s good at holding a grudge, but she’ll thaw out eventually.”
“It's all right.” Remus smiled bleakly, in the direction of the window. “It's nothing I don’t deserve. I did leave you, after all.”
“Give her enough time, and she’ll come to understand that you won’t leave again.” Tonks traced small circles on his shoulder with her finger. Because you won’t. I have to believe that.
“You know I won’t, don’t you?” His words chased after her thoughts, making her jump a little. “Because Harry thinks I should stay. Because you say that’s what you want. Because I promised.”
But his voice was a little strained, and she felt his shoulders stiffen again under her hand.
Her heart wrenched. She turned away, crossing her arms over her middle, over the place where the baby was growing.
Remus loved her. She believed that beyond all doubt. But she wasn’t sure she could take this any longer-these tumultuous swings from joy to despair in the course of a day.
“That promise is the only thing keeping you here,” she whispered. “You’d be off again otherwise, wouldn’t you, after Mum acting like that-”
She’d thought they were rebuilding something essential between them that day, something that grew out of a hundred looks or shared smiles, a hundred brief touches or cups of tea. But had Remus merely been forcing himself to go through the motions, only because he’d decided he was obligated to stay?
And did she want him to stay, if that was his only reason?
She felt herself crumbling around the edges.
“No,” he said, and all at once his voice was firm and steady. “No, Dora.” Turning away from the window, he tugged her hands free and then held them, looking straight into her eyes.
She stared back, searching for something she couldn’t even name. Her fingers closed around his.
“I know that I have never been very brave in the face of disapproval.” His mouth twisted into a bitter smile.
That’s not always true, she thought, suddenly. He’d stood up to Sirius many times the year he’d lived in Grimmauld Place, risking some rather nasty sulks to try to keep her cousin safe.
Remus sighed, and his grip on her hands tightened slightly. “But I also know that some things are worth the price. Your mother can freeze me out every day, and it’s still worth it, if you want me here-” His gaze wavered for the first time. “As long as she doesn’t make you change your mind-”
She gave their joined hands an emphatic shake. “Never.”
His eyes found hers again, and seemed to drink in the determination he must have seen there. He took a deep breath. “But you’re right that the promises, and Harry’s opinion, are important-”
She felt the crumbling start again. She turned her face away.
“No, no,” he said, hoarsely. “Listen-Dora, they’re important because that’s what tells me I’m not wrong to stay.”
Slowly, carefully, she turned back toward him.
There was an aching yearning in his eyes, so deep it stopped her breath.
“Whenever I’ve wanted something this much, it’s always been dangerous for someone-or I’ve been lying to someone-” He shook his head. “It’s always been wrong. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m only being selfish. That’s why I need the promises.”
“What is it-” Her voice caught in her throat, so she swallowed and tried again. “What is it that you want so much?
He stared at her, frozen in place.
She held his gaze. “I need to hear you say it.”
He shivered, and a red flush crept up his neck.
She waited.
“I want you to hold me,” he whispered, at last. “I want to feel you, warm and close. I want to fall asleep in your arms.”
Now it was her turn to shiver. That was more than she had expected him to say-and she could see the truth of it in his eyes.
Pulling her hands free, she wrapped her arms around him. After a heartbeat, his own arms came up, and he clung to her.
“I want to make a life with you.” His voice shook. “I want to make a home for our son.”
“That’s what you’ve been doing all day, you know,” she said into his shoulder. “Making a life. Making a home.”
“I’m trying,” he whispered.
He was-that much was indisputable.
She lifted her face and placed a kiss on his jaw, sliding her lips down toward his chin.
He shivered again.
“I want another promise,” she said against the soft skin under his jaw.
He drew an unsteady breath. “What-”
She backed away just enough to be able look at him, a wry little smile lifting one corner of her mouth. “If you won’t do this for yourself, maybe you’ll do it for me.”
He looked completely bewildered, and she almost laughed, except that she still hurt a little too much for laughter.
“It’s only one more promise,” she said, reaching out to touch his cheek, and feeling a faint echo of the little burst of sunlight in her heart when he immediately leaned into her hand. “Just-promise me you’ll let yourself want this. This marriage-this family.” She watched his face turn from puzzled to surprised, and she smoothed her finger along one eyebrow. “It’s the only way for us to keep moving forward.”
“Moving forward,” he said, considering. “Yes.” He brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them, gently, lingeringly. “I promise.” A tiny spark of humour danced for just an instant in his eyes, and that, more than anything, managed to reassure her. “I promise to promise to let myself want this. Until I don’t need the promises any more.”
Tonks drew a deep, sweet breath of summer evening air, and discovered that the ache in her heart was nearly gone.
“Come on,” she said, tugging at his sleeve, pulling him toward the bed. A little smile found its way out, and Remus met hers with a tentative one of his own. “Let’s start getting you used to the idea that sometimes, you can have what you want.”
The bedclothes were still all tumbled; she gave them a perfunctory shake and climbed in. Remus followed, hesitantly, but she reached out for him and settled his head on her shoulder. He slid his arm around her waist, and she hooked her ankle around one of his. He sighed, only a little shakily, and closed his eyes, brushing his thumb along the curve of her spine. She ran gentle fingers through his hair, along his cheek, down his back.
They lay quietly, curled up together, for a very long time, before Remus finally drifted off to sleep. Tonks, watching his slow, even breathing, smiled a little at the way his arm still curved around her. Remus was holding on.
They could, she decided-between the two of them-make things really be all right, this time.
. * fin * .
"Kaleidoscope" series index
.
Anyway, this is a Kaleidoscope installment from early in DH. As always, it's intended to stand on its own, but for people who are keeping track of the series, it picks up an hour or so after the end of All That I Am.
Moving Forward (2847 words | PG-13/intimate situations)
Remus has come home, but Tonks needs to work out how they can fit themselves together again.
Moving Forward
Tonks woke slowly, feeling groggy. She blinked at the bright light streaming through the windows and wondered, for a moment, why she was in bed in the middle of the day.
But then she felt the soft weight of a hand resting on her hip, and her breath caught.
Remus.
Something warm, like summer sunshine, swelled in her chest. She didn’t quite know if it was joy, or just relief, but either way it made her smile a little.
Remus had come home again.
It wasn’t his leaving that had made her so angry. As soon as the last Death Eater had fired a last sullen hex at the Weasleys’ wedding tent and Disapparated, Remus had promised Molly and Arthur he would go looking for Harry and the others-and that made sense.
Until later that night, when they found out about the baby.
After that, nothing made sense. Not the way Remus turned cold and distant in the space of a heartbeat-not the way he’d gone off saying things that left Tonks to wonder if he would ever come back. Not even the way he had finally turned up again yesterday, sidling around her parents’ house all wary and hesitant.
But this morning, at last, they had talked. Remus had made new promises. And... they had ended up in bed, in the middle of the day.
Maybe things were going to be all right, this time.
Tonks started to roll over, wanting to cuddle as close as she could and soothe the places in her heart that were still raw.
Unfortunately, moving reminded her stomach that it was not on particularly good terms with the rest of her.
Cursing under her breath, she scrambled out of bed, nearly tripping on the end of a sheet that trailed across the floor where one of them had kicked it. She pulled an oversized T-shirt over her head and dashed for the loo, making it just in time.
Even before she had finished retching, Remus was there, squatting behind her. His strong hands rubbed her back until her stomach stopped heaving. Then he Summoned a flannel, dampened it, and handed it to her, just as he had done that morning.
This time, after she had wiped her face, she let herself lean back against him.
He stroked her shoulders with his thumbs and kissed her softly just behind her left ear.
She sighed, feeling awfully content for someone who was kneeling on the floor in the loo.
“You ought to eat something,” Remus murmured. “You never had any breakfast, and now it’s past noon. I’ll go down and make you some more tea, and maybe some toast. All right?”
She nodded, feeling the bubble of sunlight in her chest again.
He kissed her behind the other ear. Then he stood and helped her to her feet before disappearing down the stairs.
. * . * .
When Tonks came down a few minutes later, she found a steaming cup of peppermint tea, a rack of perfectly browned toast, and a pot of marmalade waiting for her. Remus sat at the kitchen table holding another cup of tea, and he smiled at her across his own little cloud of steam.
She smiled back. “Just what I need.” Taking a piece of toast, she added a dollop of marmalade.
Only, as she watched Remus sip at his tea, her smile faded, and her eyebrows drew together.
This business of being looked after had to work both ways.
“You’ll have a sandwich or something, won’t you?” she asked. “You didn’t have any breakfast this morning, either.”
His face, so open and relaxed since they woke up together, began to close off again.
“Madam Pomfrey was right, you know,” she persisted. “If you make yourself sick, you won’t be much good to the Order.” She tried a tentative grin. “Or to the baby, either.”
His lips pressed tightly together, and for a moment she was afraid that she had pushed him too far. But then he sighed and nodded, smiling a little.
“I’ll go out tomorrow,” he said, setting out some cheese to slice, “and find a job. A Muggle job.”
It sounded like he was changing the topic, but as Tonks watched him assemble a sandwich from bread Dad had baked and cheese Mum had bought, she knew that he wasn’t.
“A Muggle job?” she asked, licking marmalade from her fingers. “You’re not fussed that that’s illegal?”
Remus huffed something that might have been meant as a laugh. “The Order is illegal. Your being married to me is illegal. We’re about to start spiriting Muggle-borns out of the country when the Ministry isn’t looking-completely illegal. I’m hardly going to worry about the Non-Magical Employment Laws at the moment.”
He did have a point.
“Maybe I should get one, too,” she said, wondering where to start looking.
“I think it’s better if you don’t, actually.”
Her head snapped up in disbelief. Surely Remus didn’t think she’d be unable to handle a Muggle job?
But his gaze met hers soberly. “The Order needs you more than anyone right now. The Death Eaters know what all the rest of us look like, thanks to Snape, so you’re the only one who’s any use for surveillance without an Invisibility Cloak.”
“Ah.” She nodded, thinking it through. “You’re probably right. Assuming I stop all this throwing up, of course...”
Remus sat down at the table with his sandwich, but he made no move to pick it up, staring at it for so long that Tonks began to worry again.
Until, that is, he looked up at her with a decidedly Marauderish grin-an expression she hadn’t seen from him nearly often enough since Sirius died.
“I’ve just had an idea,” he said. “I’ll have to talk to Arthur, but I think I know a way to earn some money and start getting the Muggle-borns out at the same time.”
“I think I’ll try a cheese sandwich, too,” was all Tonks said in reply, but as she stood up from the table, her own grin was back.
Maybe things really, truly were going to be all right this time.
. * . * .
They spent the rest of the day immersed in the piles of student records that Minerva had smuggled out of Hogwarts, trying to work out which of the current students were Muggle-born and where they might be found now, in August. But the grim and tedious task lightened a little every time Tonks looked up and saw her husband sitting across from her at the table-every time he reached over and brushed his fingers against hers.
At seven, they stopped working and went to heat up a cauldronful of pea soup for supper. Remus started to slice some bread, but when Tonks caught his eye, he sent her a half-shy little smile that went straight to her heart. She pulled him into a sudden fierce hug, burying her face in his shoulder, hungry for the soothing warmth of his arms around her and the touch of his cheek against her hair.
And then came the sound of a key in the lock. The front door opened and closed. Remus stiffened, letting his arms fall away.
Tonks gave him one last squeeze and went to poke at the soup with a fat wooden spoon. He always seemed reluctant to show affection in front of Mum or Dad, and given how uncomfortable things were between Remus and her parents just now, she couldn’t really blame him.
“It’s only me, Nymphadora,” came Mum’s voice. “Your father is working late tonight.”
Mum swept into the kitchen with exactly the sort of careless grace that Tonks would never achieve, not in a million years, and kissed her on the cheek.
“Hello, Andromeda,” said Remus. His voice was quiet, but he stood tall, met Mum’s frosty gaze with a level look of his own, and produced a steady, polite smile. “Dinner’s nearly ready.”
“Hello, Remus.” Mum inclined her head, rather regally. “Still here, I see.”
Tonks winced. She waited for Remus to turn stiff and silent, to withdraw somewhere inside himself.
Instead, his smile merely took on a wry tinge. “Yes,” he said quietly, “I am.” He turned back to the bread and raised his wand. “Just let me cut a few more slices, and we can eat.”
Tonks stared.
This was the Remus of her early days in the Order-calm and unflappable. This wasn’t the man who had been thrown so cruelly off-balance by the death of his best friend and the demands of an impossible mission, or the man who had been all but consumed by bitter shame when their marriage had cost Tonks her job and her flat and sent them here to her parents’ with nowhere else to go. The real Remus was back.
And then she happened to glance at the hand that held his wand as he sliced the bread.
His knuckles were white.
. * . * .
Absently chewing on the remnants of a Toothflossing Stringmint, Tonks padded into the bedroom. She found Remus at the open window, looking out over the pond that shone violet in the gathering dusk.
She went to stand beside him. He was very still, and his face was calm, but she didn’t even need to touch him to feel how tense he was.
It had been a long evening, and the strain had roiled behind his careful facade all through dinner. Even so, he hadn’t let the calm courtesy slip, not once.
She put a hand tentatively on his shoulder. His eyes closed for an instant, and she thought he might have relaxed, just a fraction.
“I’m sorry about Mum,” she said, softly. “She’s good at holding a grudge, but she’ll thaw out eventually.”
“It's all right.” Remus smiled bleakly, in the direction of the window. “It's nothing I don’t deserve. I did leave you, after all.”
“Give her enough time, and she’ll come to understand that you won’t leave again.” Tonks traced small circles on his shoulder with her finger. Because you won’t. I have to believe that.
“You know I won’t, don’t you?” His words chased after her thoughts, making her jump a little. “Because Harry thinks I should stay. Because you say that’s what you want. Because I promised.”
But his voice was a little strained, and she felt his shoulders stiffen again under her hand.
Her heart wrenched. She turned away, crossing her arms over her middle, over the place where the baby was growing.
Remus loved her. She believed that beyond all doubt. But she wasn’t sure she could take this any longer-these tumultuous swings from joy to despair in the course of a day.
“That promise is the only thing keeping you here,” she whispered. “You’d be off again otherwise, wouldn’t you, after Mum acting like that-”
She’d thought they were rebuilding something essential between them that day, something that grew out of a hundred looks or shared smiles, a hundred brief touches or cups of tea. But had Remus merely been forcing himself to go through the motions, only because he’d decided he was obligated to stay?
And did she want him to stay, if that was his only reason?
She felt herself crumbling around the edges.
“No,” he said, and all at once his voice was firm and steady. “No, Dora.” Turning away from the window, he tugged her hands free and then held them, looking straight into her eyes.
She stared back, searching for something she couldn’t even name. Her fingers closed around his.
“I know that I have never been very brave in the face of disapproval.” His mouth twisted into a bitter smile.
That’s not always true, she thought, suddenly. He’d stood up to Sirius many times the year he’d lived in Grimmauld Place, risking some rather nasty sulks to try to keep her cousin safe.
Remus sighed, and his grip on her hands tightened slightly. “But I also know that some things are worth the price. Your mother can freeze me out every day, and it’s still worth it, if you want me here-” His gaze wavered for the first time. “As long as she doesn’t make you change your mind-”
She gave their joined hands an emphatic shake. “Never.”
His eyes found hers again, and seemed to drink in the determination he must have seen there. He took a deep breath. “But you’re right that the promises, and Harry’s opinion, are important-”
She felt the crumbling start again. She turned her face away.
“No, no,” he said, hoarsely. “Listen-Dora, they’re important because that’s what tells me I’m not wrong to stay.”
Slowly, carefully, she turned back toward him.
There was an aching yearning in his eyes, so deep it stopped her breath.
“Whenever I’ve wanted something this much, it’s always been dangerous for someone-or I’ve been lying to someone-” He shook his head. “It’s always been wrong. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m only being selfish. That’s why I need the promises.”
“What is it-” Her voice caught in her throat, so she swallowed and tried again. “What is it that you want so much?
He stared at her, frozen in place.
She held his gaze. “I need to hear you say it.”
He shivered, and a red flush crept up his neck.
She waited.
“I want you to hold me,” he whispered, at last. “I want to feel you, warm and close. I want to fall asleep in your arms.”
Now it was her turn to shiver. That was more than she had expected him to say-and she could see the truth of it in his eyes.
Pulling her hands free, she wrapped her arms around him. After a heartbeat, his own arms came up, and he clung to her.
“I want to make a life with you.” His voice shook. “I want to make a home for our son.”
“That’s what you’ve been doing all day, you know,” she said into his shoulder. “Making a life. Making a home.”
“I’m trying,” he whispered.
He was-that much was indisputable.
She lifted her face and placed a kiss on his jaw, sliding her lips down toward his chin.
He shivered again.
“I want another promise,” she said against the soft skin under his jaw.
He drew an unsteady breath. “What-”
She backed away just enough to be able look at him, a wry little smile lifting one corner of her mouth. “If you won’t do this for yourself, maybe you’ll do it for me.”
He looked completely bewildered, and she almost laughed, except that she still hurt a little too much for laughter.
“It’s only one more promise,” she said, reaching out to touch his cheek, and feeling a faint echo of the little burst of sunlight in her heart when he immediately leaned into her hand. “Just-promise me you’ll let yourself want this. This marriage-this family.” She watched his face turn from puzzled to surprised, and she smoothed her finger along one eyebrow. “It’s the only way for us to keep moving forward.”
“Moving forward,” he said, considering. “Yes.” He brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them, gently, lingeringly. “I promise.” A tiny spark of humour danced for just an instant in his eyes, and that, more than anything, managed to reassure her. “I promise to promise to let myself want this. Until I don’t need the promises any more.”
Tonks drew a deep, sweet breath of summer evening air, and discovered that the ache in her heart was nearly gone.
“Come on,” she said, tugging at his sleeve, pulling him toward the bed. A little smile found its way out, and Remus met hers with a tentative one of his own. “Let’s start getting you used to the idea that sometimes, you can have what you want.”
The bedclothes were still all tumbled; she gave them a perfunctory shake and climbed in. Remus followed, hesitantly, but she reached out for him and settled his head on her shoulder. He slid his arm around her waist, and she hooked her ankle around one of his. He sighed, only a little shakily, and closed his eyes, brushing his thumb along the curve of her spine. She ran gentle fingers through his hair, along his cheek, down his back.
They lay quietly, curled up together, for a very long time, before Remus finally drifted off to sleep. Tonks, watching his slow, even breathing, smiled a little at the way his arm still curved around her. Remus was holding on.
They could, she decided-between the two of them-make things really be all right, this time.
. * fin * .
"Kaleidoscope" series index
.