Return to me, Prologue
Title: Return to me
Authors: sweetjerry and
angeldancing
Rating: M/R
Pairings: Remus/Tonks, Sirius/Remus is mentioned, aaaaand... there will be other pairings too, but let's not spoil teh drama...
Summary: The war is over and all is well. That is, until Remus’ old lover comes falling out of the Veil that ate him, with no recollection at all of being stone dead, and with a not very happy opinion of Remus being married. Now the man that death couldn't stop is hell-bent on getting Remus back. What's poor Dora to do?
~*~*~*~
Prologue
True
Just be yourself!
The ever-encouraging phrase used to relieve stress and soothe fears.
But what if I’m not good enough?
The inevitable question that follows it.
Now, if you could change your face, your hair, your body to suit everyone’s needs and/or wishes, wouldn’t you be even the slightest bit tempted? And how can anyone say that you’re not being true to yourself, when your very nature is to change? And who are you really? Is there even a face underlying the elaborate and beautiful masks, or are you a blank slate where anyone can leave an imprint, a demand? Is there a you, or just an us creating you over and over again?
Well, Dora?
~*~*~*~
A door slammed. There was the very special sound of a cloak hitting the wall and then sliding down to drape itself over a chair. Some rather frustrated - angry? - footsteps, and then the sound of someone collapsing backwards into the sofa.
“Where have you been?”
Remus looked up, his hair at odd angles; he’d been leaning his head in his hands. “An idiot,” he mumbled.
“That’s a what, which we can discuss later. Right now I’m more interested in where.”
He shied away, as if she had slapped him, as if there had been more venom in her voice than there strictly was. “I… Grimmauldplace.”
Nymphadora crossed her arms and gave him a look that was more baffled than angry. “There’s that ‘what’ again… You know, I never took you for stupid.”
He shook his head, looking worn and tired. “You have no idea,” he muttered, raking his hands through his hair.
Mr. Baffled got kicked out by Sir Rage, who’d been waiting in line behind Messrs Humiliation, Fear, Self-Loathing and Panic. Rage had felt pretty miffed when Baffled just elbowed his way in out of the blue, and someone was going to pay for it. Remus was conveniently present.
“No, I have no idea. You see, I’ve been kinda busy worrying about your sorry ass, worrying about how the hell am I supposed raise a child, not to mention a potential werewolf, all by my fucking self!” Remus opened his mouth as if to object, but Dora jabbed an angry finger at him so viciously that he sat back, wide-eyed. “No, you shut up! You leave me as soon as you find out we’re having a baby, how am I supposed to take that? As a sign of your fucking devotion as a fucking father?”
Remus was staring at her in shock, his face stark white, and even though his lips moved, nothing came out. He wanted to explain, but at the moment he was dumbfounded by the sheer force of her rage. He knew he should’ve realised that this was how she was going to react, but yet again, he’d been too self-absolved to notice the storm until it was right upon him.
“Now, I appreciate that this might be a stressful situation for you, but that doesn’t make it okay to ditch me and run off to wallow in your godforsaken self-pity and melodramatic angst! And where is it that you go? To Grimmauldplace! The place where three scared youths, not to mention our last bleeding hope, are hiding from the Dark Lord! That is not the place to go when you aren’t completely stable - and for both our sakes I’ll assume that it wasn’t a rational decision to walk out on me. You could have exposed them, arsewipe!”
“I know.” He didn’t say it angrily; in that case, the argument would’ve just snowballed on. He said it with every sign of regret and quiet acceptance, and it totally made her lose all the momentum she’d been gathering. What do you answer to that?
“Well… good.”
He actually smiled at her, a smile that looked a million years old. “I… You are completely right. You don’t know how right you are, as a matter of fact. I went there to offer myself to go with them. Leaving you here so that I could… well, go off and die. That was the original plan. A very Sirius-like ending, all poetic and self-sacrificing. Ha!” She supposed that the bitter grimace was meant to be another smile.
Now completely pulling the rug out from under Sir Rage’s feet, Miss Shock entered the stage. “And what stopped you?” was all she could manage to say.
“Harry.” Remus chuckled dryly. “He thought it was the dumbest thing he’d ever heard, and he didn’t hesitate to tell me. At length, actually. It was really quite enlightening.”
“I like that kid,” Nymphadora said, with feeling.
“So do I. Very much. That’s probably what stopped me from killing him.” Remus sighed. “Facing yourself isn’t really pretty, and there are some things you just don’t want to know. I’ve never been so angry in all of my life. Never been so much… wolf.” He smiled at her rather impatient face. “I’m sorry, far too elaborate. Basically, I told the kid who lost his parents in a tragic accident that I was going to run out on my kid just because I was getting a touch of cold feet. All in his name. He didn’t appreciate that.”
Dora’s voice was reminiscent of something coming from a crypt, something dry and cold that’s had maggots chewing on it for just a bit too long. “I can relate.”
There was a moment of awkward silence, and then he stood up and walked over to her, putting his hands very tentatively on her upper arms. “I wish I could say something more than that I’m sorry, something that means more than just… But at least… I am sorry.”
She looked into his eyes, without anger now, but still not happy with him by a long shot.
“You mean that?”
“Yes. Very much so.”
“Well, then I guess that’ll have to do then.”
“Is it acceptable for me to kiss you?”
And her treacherous heart… melted. She grabbed him by the collar, pulled him to an acceptable height - and possibly grew an inch or two to speed the process on - and proceeded to snog the living daylight out of her husband.
Surfacing after quite some time under, Remus watched her with a fond smile pulling on his lips. “I take it I’m forgiven for now?”
“For now.”
He nodded, and for a long while said nothing. He just watched her face as if not having looked at it for a very long while, tracing contours and investigating the texture of her skin. “You look different,” he said after a while. “Why have you changed?”
“I haven’t… I’m not…” Her expression changed from confusion to wonder, “… I’m not doing anything!” she yelled and ran over to a mirror hanging on the wall behind her, staring at the completely unfamiliar reflection. She knew it was her face, the face she would have had if she’d been normal. There were no alterations, god alone could give an answer to how she could possibly know that, but she did.
“I haven’t been able to remember what I look like for years…” she mumbled, and it was true. She’d been altering herself for so long, there was no way of knowing what she’d have been if she hadn’t. She didn’t know if it was a pretty face or not; it wasn’t very different from the face she’d had, but still it made a difference.
Remus didn’t really know what to say. Telling her that it didn’t matter to him how she looked seemed somewhat insensitive. So he went over to stand by her side, watching her new old face in the mirror with her. “Still pretty,” he murmured, circling his arms around her from behind. Then he smiled rather teasingly and put his hands on her breasts. “Smaller,” he commented, not sounding in the least disappointed.
“Bastard! I’m having a deep moment of revelation, and you comment the size of my tits? Men!”
“You seemed to take it a bit too seriously. You of all should know that it doesn’t really matter. It certainly doesn’t to me. If you’re happier with, for example, bigger breasts, then I’m fine with it. If you want to have them smaller, fine. I might complain if you remove them altogether, but they’re still yours to do whatever it pleases you with them.”
It struck her that Remus couldn’t possibly understand why this was such a big deal to her, since she’d never told him how complicated being a metamorphmagus had made her life. It also struck her that she should probably tell him. But right now, he’d been gone for a week, she’d just been relieved of a buttload of stress and he was holding her… with his hands on her breasts. This was not a time to dwell on old teenage angst.