Fic: Near Misses
Title: Near Misses
Author: poe_lee
Rating and Warnings: K+ for Major Angst and mild language
Prompts: And you know you should be glad/ She said you hurt her so/ She almost lost her mind/ And now she says she knows/ You're not the hurting kind/ She Loves You Prompt Word: flight
Word Count: 4,325
Summary: When Remus is confronted by Arthur about his behavior, he actually listens.
Author's Notes An angsty little piece about why reason and logic never work when Tonks enters the situation. Major kudos to my beta pinkdepression
Near Misses
The door opened and with it blew in a gust of chilled air. Remus was sure he could detect the soft scent of snow and whipped around in his seat to see who had entered the Weasley’s kitchen. Only, his brief and unintended anticipation was met with disappointment when he saw that it was just Molly passing through. She shook the snow from her boots and moved on, offering his a warm smile as she passed. He knew it should not be so, but his heart could not help the hysterics that overtook it every time he envisioned Tonks striding over that threshold.
Remus found himself gazing into the fire again on Christmas night. Bill and Fleur were snuggling on the settee and the younger ones were already upstairs. After today’s events, he thought that maybe he should go talk to Harry, but he was already asleep. And if anyone deserved sleep, Harry did. Remus stared at the crackling embers from his seat some mere feet away and allowed his mind to wander off for a moment. He dreaded going to sleep at night. The entire practice made him nervous. Sleep was a luxury when with the wolves, his ‘brethren’. Yet even now at the Burrow he found himself growing anxious as he nodded off, often bolting upright just as the last wave of unconsciousness hit him and throwing back the blankets just to find that he was safe. Though, he had to give credit where credit was due. It was not always fear that kept him awake and tormented his weary mind until the first sliver of daybreak. She was constantly in his mind. When he had something to do, or pay attention to, it was easier to pretend he did not need her with him. But when he tossed and turned, only one face came to mind. Tonks. He knew that he had to deny her. That there was no other way and she was better off without him. Sometimes when he awoke, he turned, half expecting to see a tousled pink head where his outstretched arm was, where it should be. Mostly he just tried to attribute that to his dreams, which were constantly of Nymphadora. Last night’s dream especially was hard to shake. He almost cringed in pain as it seeped back into his conscious mind.
---
There were two reasons for which Remus could tell he was dreaming. The first was that he was watching the events unfold in third person. He was watching himself go through the motions. Watching himself make mistakes and bring someone entirely lovely and beautiful down with him. The second reason was that he recognized the dream as soon as it materialized. It was not a dream in the sense that it was a memory as real as any, made all of the more real because of the characters in it but less tangible since he had thrown hope of this previous life away.
“Hurry up, Remus!” called Tonks’ voice as she descended a hill toward the duck pond. Remus saw himself shake his head and plod after her.
“You’re not the one carrying all of the bloody baskets.”
She batted her lashes. “I packed it all for you.”
He smiled, feeling the muscles in his cheeks exercise in a way he had thought years previously they never would again. He couldn’t believe that he had let Tonks cook despite what he knew of her culinary aptitude.
As they reached the water’s edge he set down the basket and went to stand by her side. Next to him, Tonks was humming softly while the wind played games in her hair. He smiled again. And tucking a rather rebellious strand behind her ear, he whispered, “Nymphadora…” But before he could finish his thought, her humming grew louder.
He began to whisper again, “Stop being childish Nymphadora.”
Her humming grew even louder. And now she was humming along to the tune of a Weird Sisters song she had forced upon him two weeks previously, and he found completely revolting. “I’ll roll out the blanket,” he called.
“Are you really?” she asked. Her eyes sparkled with excitement and she moved closer to where he was now setting up their picnic. “You said earlier that you knew all too well about my cooking and would not touch anything that came from my kitchen or aid in the consumption of it. And I do believe that rolling this blanket out can be taken as aiding.”
“Maybe I exaggerated a little. I’m willing to try your food as long as I’m allowed to pass fair judgment on it.”
She wrinkled her nose and laughed. He felt the muscles in his cheeks tug again as his smile slowly crinkled upward. Yes, chancing her culinary experiments was worth it, just for that face. Two bites into the chicken salad, however, he was having doubts. He was not sure how anyone, even Tonks, could take an easy recipe like this and make it taste like old socks.
“How do you like it?” she asked expectantly. Perched on her knees, she was leaning forward to gauge his reaction. After a second when he didn’t answer, she cocked her pink bob to the side and inquired with her eyebrows.
“Great. Fantastic. You’ve done it again,” he said in a rather monotone voice. He would have attempted expression, but the glob of ‘chicken salad’ was still in his mouth. Swallowing this horrible concoction was simply out of the question. He glanced around the park for something to take his mind off of the horrid taste in his mouth and inhibit him from making a dissatisfied face. But all he found to focus on was a family of ducks, and he’d much rather watch Tonks.
“Oh, it can’t really be that bad,” Tonks sighed and snatched the container from him. And plunging her index finger into it, she stuck a huge dollop into her mouth. For a moment she considered what she had done. And then, the calm left. She jumped up ad spit in the grass, yelling, “Bloody hell, that’s horrible! I’ve outdone myself with this one.”
“Not quite as bad as the homemade chips you tried last month, I think.” Remus got up from the blanket and began to clean up the few containers and utensils they had already taken out.
“Worse. Much worse. It tastes like I saved the oil from the chips, let it sit out, and tried to put it in here.”
“I’m guessing nothing else in here is edible?” He asked, gesturing toward the basket.
“Probably not,” she conceded and started picking up the blanket. “I’m really trying, you know.”
“I know,” he said. “It’s adorable. It’s endearing.”
She smiled again and he kissed her forehead before asking, “So what do you propose we do in the way of food?”
“There’s a Tesco right down the street across from my flat. We could go get something and eat it at home.”
“Yeah, alright. You lead the way.”
Tonks grinned and took Remus’ hand. She led him to the muggle shopping mart where they bought an array of food that required little to no preparation at all. That little preparation, it was decided, was to be carried out by Remus. And hand in hand they ended up back at her apartment, where they devoured a bagged salad, a large tin of beef stew, and a baguette. Then after a rather pleasurable hour on her couch Remus whispered, “Tonks, our Order meeting starts in about forty five minutes.”
Her expression immediately fell and she muttered, “Oh, bugger.”
“We could walk.” Remus quite fancied the idea of walking hand in hand across the city with her.
She pillowed her head on his shoulder and after a moment of careful consideration, she said, “I have a better idea.” She moved faster than he could have imagined, scrambling from the couch and into the hall, where he was sure he heard a distinct crash. He coaxed his limbs to get up and follow, and when he reached her, she was rummaging through the closet.
“What, may I ask, are you doing?”
“I’m looking for…” her voice came out of the tiny enclosure muffled, “…this.” Tonks leapt back out into the hall where she successfully knocked over the only vase in the entire flat with what appeared to be a broom handle. In it were the flowers Remus had given her a month prior. Crashing to the floor, the vase sent shards of glass in all directions. Tonks winced and quickly shut her eyes tightly.
Remus chuckled. “I’ll get it.” Pulling his wand from his trousers, he pointed it at the glass and spoke clearly, “Reparo.” It flew back together and then onto the end table it called home.
“Thanks, “she smiled. “I like having you around.”
“Because I clean up your messes?”
“That’s one reason,” she teased and then brought forth the broom again, making sure that nothing breakable was in its path.
“It’s a nice broom,” Remus said, not sure what he was supposed to do with the object she had thrust in front of him.
“Yes. But that’s not the point. This is my old Hogwarts broom. And we’re flying it to Grimmauld Place.” Her entire face lit up and she grinned at him.
“Flying? It’s a fifteen-minute walk. If we feel adventurous we could just take the metro, even though I’m not entirely fond of underground trains. It’s dangerous to just take a joy ride around London.”
“Let’s look at the starts Remus. Watch them higher than all of London.” Her smile grew even larger. Tonks grabbed a cloak from the rack by the door and led him outside onto the roof. Once they made sure they were completely alone and even the darkened streets below were empty, they performed disillusionment charms and mounted the broom. She kicked off and he hugged tightly to her waist.
“Shouldn’t I be the one driving the room?” Remus asked, noticing how odd it was for his girlfriend to be taking him to an engagement and as she was so many years his junior.
“It’s my broom, I’ll be conducting the flight, thank you,” she said not backing down at all.
They rose above the clouds and the temperature dropped considerably. Remus wrapped his arms even tighter around her. “Warm,” he asked. He felt her nod and saw her clear shape point upward, distorting the sky where her arm raised.
There in spite of the city lights, the stars shone brighter than either had ever seen them. It was like they burned especially bright just for them.
And then quickly as the dream came into existence it vanished, and Remus found himself turning to the side and reaching out. But all his hand found was an empty pillow.
---
“Lupin, my old friend,” Arthur said as he seated himself next to Remus by the fire. “What is the matter?”
Remus pried his eyes away from the flames and turned to face him. “Nothing. Nothing is the matter at all.”
“I think we both know you’re lying. I have seven children and they may think me oblivious, but if there’s anything I’ve learned from them it is to decipher their facades.”
Remus didn’t consider himself as having a façade as much as keeping a strong face.
“You know, I’m doing this for your own good. Molly’s version included a few flying pots and a lot of screaming. We hate to see the two of you like this.”
“The two of us?” Remus asked. In full truth, he knew exactly what Arthur was talking about, but he’d rather not admit it to himself.
“Don’t be daft, Remus. Molly has her ‘round about once a week, you know. And what would be getting better in any other circumstance is getting worse. You’ve about driven her insane, you have.”
Remus gritted his teeth. Did no one see that what he was doing was for her benefit? “I know what I’m doing. In time, she’ll see that it’s all for the best. She’s young, Arthur, she’ll find love again.”
The way the firelight hit Arthur’s face, it almost made him softer. His creased brow, wrought with worry became a veritable canyon. “Molly and I listen to her every week. She says she loves you each time we see her. And it’s apparent that these feelings are not going to just go away.”
“They will. Time heals all wounds.” By now, Remus’ voice was strained as if he was pleading with some invisible force to make his words true.
“Look at yourself, Remus. Look at your scars. Yes time heals but it does not numb. Don’t scar her.”
“I don’t mean to hurt her!”
“I know. And moreover, she knows that you would never purposely hurt her. You’re not the kind.”
Remus sat pensive for a moment and picked at his threadbare trousers. “she can’t want me. She shouldn’t want me.” He thought of the way he denied her. It was unforgivable.
“But she does, and she will. You should be glad Remus, to have found love in the midst of all this chaos.”
“No,” he said bolting from his chair. Remus began pacing back and forth furiously, as it the floor itself had wronged him. “No, you’re wrong. You and Molly are lucky, James and Lilly were lucky. You all found loves that work.”
“The only reason it is not working for you and Tonks is because you won’t allow it.”
“I refuse to allow it because I’m doing the right thing.”
“No, Remus. You’re scared. You are confusing fear with righteousness. So many mistakes big and small were made because men are too scared to face the truth.”
Remus squeezed his temple and said, “There is nothing else I can do.” The voice that left his mouth was small and strained. It reminded him of the time he had tried to run away from Hogwarts as a boy, convinced that the entire student body would benefit form his absence. When Filch finally caught up with him and dragged him to the headmaster’s office his explanation was the same. It seemed that ever since boyhood, or early wolfhood, all Remus Lupin knew how to do was run away. And no matter how hard he tried, he could never claw his way back through that open door completely of his own devices.
Arthur stood and joined him by the window, where he had brought his pacing to an abrupt halt. “This is all I have to say for now, but Remus, if you cannot bring yourself to be in a relationship with her again, at least speak with Tonks. Don’t deny her your entire self.”
He said nothing, only watched the snowfall outside and candy coat the slumbering earth. Under this veil of night, everything would change and when the world woke up, it would be taken by surprise.
Molly appeared on the downstairs landing and said something about the children that Remus did not quite catch. He was still envisioning Tonks waking up to see the outdoors covered in a think white blanket. Maybe she’d be inspired and morph her hair to match. It almost made him laugh and cry at the same time when he thought of her leaning in to a grimy window at Grimmauld Place and telling him softly, “Even if I was not a witch, I’d know there was some magic in the world every time I woke up to this.” He smiled in spite of himself.
Molly addressed him finally, saying, “Remus, the least you can do tonight is return her broom.” She pointed toward the door, where leaning against the jam was Tonks’ old broom. The one they rode, so in love, to an Order meeting and promptly forgot about by the fire. He walked over and ran one aged hand over the handle.
“Where did you…”
Molly cut him off mid sentence. But even so, he was not sure if he could have finished the thought. This was all so surreal. “It was in the cupboard at Grimmauld Place. When we were getting some of the things we left behind last week. I couldn’t just leave it, now could I? And had she come tonight, we would have returned it to her.” She looked pointedly at him and narrowed her eyes.
Arthur stepped up and put an arm around his wife’s shoulders. “We’re not asking you to take her back, Remus. Just talk to her. She loves you.”
Molly snorted and slid out from his arm. Picking up a laundry basket she said, “You’re not.”
Remus was so overwhelmed that all he could muster was, “Yeah, alright.” He ran away last June and if he couldn’t claw his way back through that open door, then he’d fly back to her.
Leading up to flight was a bit of a blur. He was still reasoning internally whether this was the correct course of action. Though, he went through the motions. He bounded up the stairs to get his ratty cloak and outside to take off from the Weasley’s garden. Involuntarily, it seemed, he put a disillusionment charm on himself. But as he rose through the atmosphere he became hyper-aware. The snowflakes, just born from nearby clouds stuck to his hair and clothes so that when he looked down at himself, he only saw a frosty shell. The stars on this Christmas night were brilliant above the heavy cover of clouds. They twinkled at him and all at once, memories he had been repressing of Tonks came flooding back. Things like her smell: spicy and warm, her array of hair colours: more vibrant and varied than the rainbow could ever wish to be, her tinkling laugh, and her eyes: more brilliant than even these stars, all took over his senses.
Remus circled the apartment building three times to find a place to land and settled on a discreet alley way on the immediate right. Beside rubbish bins overfilled with holiday refuse he took off the charm and shook snow from his graying tresses/ Rounding the corner and climbing the stairs to her flat, he felt nervousness grow with every step. His shoes sported holes and his sweater was worn thin. The cloak was even worse than the other two. But he was so close, and clutching the broom close to his side he reasoned that, yes he had a reason to be here. He walked down the familiar hall and stopped abruptly at her door. Readying himself he whispered softly to himself, “I’m here Tonks. I’m here and all I have to do is knock.,” and immediately felt like a silly lovesick teenager for talking to himself.
He raised his hand and knocked once.
He knocked twice. And no one came to the door. He knocked again, but noticed that he could not detect any light from the peephole or from under the door. It was all completely dark.
He had missed her. Slumping against the door, he allowed his back to slide against its surface until he was crumpled in a heap on the floor, head leaning against the magic broom for support. It reminded him of why he was here, and moreover who was not here with him. Maybe she spent Christmas with her family after all. Or maybe everyone was wrong and Tonks had moved on. He could not complain, not really. It was what he wanted. But no matter how much he reasoned with himself, he could not construct a logic that explained why he, a grown man, was beginning to cry. He felt the first tear overspill the floodgate and lost count of the rest. He curled up against her door and thought that he might stay there until she returned. “Tonks,” he began whispering to no one at all again, “O love you and I left you. And I can’t take you back.”
Slam!
He jumped as three doors down, an elderly man dressed in a trench and a cap entered the hallway and closed the door behind him. On his arm was a leash, which was attached at the other end to a cat that looked less than thrilled by the arrangement. Remus wiped his eyes and stood up, trying to ignore how ridiculous he was feeling.
“Yer lookin’ fer the girl in tha’ apartment?” asked the man, adjusting his large spectacles.
“Yes,” Remus said. “Do you know where she is?”
He scooped up his cat and began rubbing its fur in long strokes. “She works late. I asked ‘er to take out me cat while I was a’ me cousin’s ‘ouse, but she said she was workin’. On Christmas Day!”
Remus nodded, the lump in his throat inexplicably growing again.
The old man’s eyes sparkled as he began again, “Yeh’ll be the one to set ‘er righ’ again, then? She’s always mopin’ ‘bout. Yeh kin tell she’s bin cryin’ when yer pass ‘er in the hall.” He watched Remus expectantly as did the cat. He broke under the scrutiny.
“No,” he cats his eyes downward and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m the one who did that to her. I won’t be able to pick up the pieces.”
The old man straightened his spine and said, “I ‘spect yeh’ll be on yer way, then?”
“Yes, I’ll be on my way, then.” Remus wrapped his cloak a little tighter around his thin frame and added, “Happy Christmas.”
He nodded and returned the greeting before fixing his small bespeckled eyes on Remus. Remus took the hint and descended the stairs, glancing back at the door and the broom. For half an hour he had deluded himself into thinking that maybe, just maybe, he could be with her again. But he took all that happened as a sign. All of the old arguments worked their way back into his mind, clinging to his memories of her, making sure that he would not make this mistake again. As he pushed through the exit, cold air chilled his damp face. He found the alley and glanced back at the city and sky that was visible between the buildings. A clock situated on a traffic light caught his eyes. It read eleven thirty p.m. just as he turned to apparate back to the Burrow.
---
“That it dearie?”
Tonks’ head shot upward as the matronly clerk called her attention. Over her head, fluorescent lights threatened to burn out any second. Mostly, they just added to her headache.
“Erm…yes. That’s all,” she said and awkwardly threaded her thin wrist through the plastic loops of her shopping bag.
Nymphadora Tonks stepped out of the Tesco across the street from her flat at exactly eleven thirty-five p.m. She scanned the road with her eyes and tugged her red and green fitted cap over the stringy brown strands that refused to relinquish hold on her head. Crossing the street, she reflected on how cruel she had been to herself this Christmas. She pulled an extra shift at work so some of the aurors with families wouldn’t be asked. She knew she could go see her own parents, knew that she was welcome with the Weasleys. But going to the Burrow would mean having to see him and she was not sure her fragile heart could take that kind of disappointment again. Molly had begged her to come, but every time she asked, Tonks declined. And she knew that visiting her mum and dad in this state would do nothing but worry and depress them. So she sat in a darkened auror’s office for hours, almost wishing that something would happen so she would not have to reflect on her life now. Yet, nothing did and she spent most of Christmas sedimentary in her office chair. Then instead of apparating or taking the floo home, she walked. She went at a very leisurely pace. The darkened streets felt like home. Her now bland tresses blended with the late night colours so well that she was not even sure that she was real. Once upon a time she had a drive, a reason to stand out. But ever since Remus left, she found getting out of bed took all of the motivation she could muster.
She stood with her feet on the very corner of the sidewalk, staring upward as snowflakes gingerly kissed her nose and felt one lonely tear escape. She was not foreign to the feeling that there were still tears left to cry. She doubted they would ever run out. And after a black cab passed in front of her eyes, she crossed the street, her heart as heavy as her weary feet.
As her footsteps slowed near the door, Tonks noticed something amiss. Right in front of her flat, leaning on a decorative poinsettia that she put out but never remembered to water was a broomstick. It was very ordinary to the unknowing eye, but one look told her everything. She dropped the plastic shopping bag and whispered, “Oh, Remus.” Out of the plastic fell a bag salad, a tin of beef stew, and a baguette.
She swiveled around, hoping in vain to see him step from the shadows. But all was quiet on the top floor of the building. Not even the other tenants made the slightest sound from within their walls. “Remus,” she whispered again and sunk down into a sitting position with her back against the door. Tears began to spill as she spoke his name and where she sat, she could swear that carpet was still warm. Maybe it was her imagination, but it was real enough for Tonks to constitute her need to stay there a few moments longer. The spilled contents of her bag caught her eye as she glanced around through the heavy cover of tears. She had to admit, her feast was a poor substitute for the real thing.
Author: poe_lee
Rating and Warnings: K+ for Major Angst and mild language
Prompts: And you know you should be glad/ She said you hurt her so/ She almost lost her mind/ And now she says she knows/ You're not the hurting kind/ She Loves You Prompt Word: flight
Word Count: 4,325
Summary: When Remus is confronted by Arthur about his behavior, he actually listens.
Author's Notes An angsty little piece about why reason and logic never work when Tonks enters the situation. Major kudos to my beta pinkdepression
Near Misses
The door opened and with it blew in a gust of chilled air. Remus was sure he could detect the soft scent of snow and whipped around in his seat to see who had entered the Weasley’s kitchen. Only, his brief and unintended anticipation was met with disappointment when he saw that it was just Molly passing through. She shook the snow from her boots and moved on, offering his a warm smile as she passed. He knew it should not be so, but his heart could not help the hysterics that overtook it every time he envisioned Tonks striding over that threshold.
Remus found himself gazing into the fire again on Christmas night. Bill and Fleur were snuggling on the settee and the younger ones were already upstairs. After today’s events, he thought that maybe he should go talk to Harry, but he was already asleep. And if anyone deserved sleep, Harry did. Remus stared at the crackling embers from his seat some mere feet away and allowed his mind to wander off for a moment. He dreaded going to sleep at night. The entire practice made him nervous. Sleep was a luxury when with the wolves, his ‘brethren’. Yet even now at the Burrow he found himself growing anxious as he nodded off, often bolting upright just as the last wave of unconsciousness hit him and throwing back the blankets just to find that he was safe. Though, he had to give credit where credit was due. It was not always fear that kept him awake and tormented his weary mind until the first sliver of daybreak. She was constantly in his mind. When he had something to do, or pay attention to, it was easier to pretend he did not need her with him. But when he tossed and turned, only one face came to mind. Tonks. He knew that he had to deny her. That there was no other way and she was better off without him. Sometimes when he awoke, he turned, half expecting to see a tousled pink head where his outstretched arm was, where it should be. Mostly he just tried to attribute that to his dreams, which were constantly of Nymphadora. Last night’s dream especially was hard to shake. He almost cringed in pain as it seeped back into his conscious mind.
---
There were two reasons for which Remus could tell he was dreaming. The first was that he was watching the events unfold in third person. He was watching himself go through the motions. Watching himself make mistakes and bring someone entirely lovely and beautiful down with him. The second reason was that he recognized the dream as soon as it materialized. It was not a dream in the sense that it was a memory as real as any, made all of the more real because of the characters in it but less tangible since he had thrown hope of this previous life away.
“Hurry up, Remus!” called Tonks’ voice as she descended a hill toward the duck pond. Remus saw himself shake his head and plod after her.
“You’re not the one carrying all of the bloody baskets.”
She batted her lashes. “I packed it all for you.”
He smiled, feeling the muscles in his cheeks exercise in a way he had thought years previously they never would again. He couldn’t believe that he had let Tonks cook despite what he knew of her culinary aptitude.
As they reached the water’s edge he set down the basket and went to stand by her side. Next to him, Tonks was humming softly while the wind played games in her hair. He smiled again. And tucking a rather rebellious strand behind her ear, he whispered, “Nymphadora…” But before he could finish his thought, her humming grew louder.
He began to whisper again, “Stop being childish Nymphadora.”
Her humming grew even louder. And now she was humming along to the tune of a Weird Sisters song she had forced upon him two weeks previously, and he found completely revolting. “I’ll roll out the blanket,” he called.
“Are you really?” she asked. Her eyes sparkled with excitement and she moved closer to where he was now setting up their picnic. “You said earlier that you knew all too well about my cooking and would not touch anything that came from my kitchen or aid in the consumption of it. And I do believe that rolling this blanket out can be taken as aiding.”
“Maybe I exaggerated a little. I’m willing to try your food as long as I’m allowed to pass fair judgment on it.”
She wrinkled her nose and laughed. He felt the muscles in his cheeks tug again as his smile slowly crinkled upward. Yes, chancing her culinary experiments was worth it, just for that face. Two bites into the chicken salad, however, he was having doubts. He was not sure how anyone, even Tonks, could take an easy recipe like this and make it taste like old socks.
“How do you like it?” she asked expectantly. Perched on her knees, she was leaning forward to gauge his reaction. After a second when he didn’t answer, she cocked her pink bob to the side and inquired with her eyebrows.
“Great. Fantastic. You’ve done it again,” he said in a rather monotone voice. He would have attempted expression, but the glob of ‘chicken salad’ was still in his mouth. Swallowing this horrible concoction was simply out of the question. He glanced around the park for something to take his mind off of the horrid taste in his mouth and inhibit him from making a dissatisfied face. But all he found to focus on was a family of ducks, and he’d much rather watch Tonks.
“Oh, it can’t really be that bad,” Tonks sighed and snatched the container from him. And plunging her index finger into it, she stuck a huge dollop into her mouth. For a moment she considered what she had done. And then, the calm left. She jumped up ad spit in the grass, yelling, “Bloody hell, that’s horrible! I’ve outdone myself with this one.”
“Not quite as bad as the homemade chips you tried last month, I think.” Remus got up from the blanket and began to clean up the few containers and utensils they had already taken out.
“Worse. Much worse. It tastes like I saved the oil from the chips, let it sit out, and tried to put it in here.”
“I’m guessing nothing else in here is edible?” He asked, gesturing toward the basket.
“Probably not,” she conceded and started picking up the blanket. “I’m really trying, you know.”
“I know,” he said. “It’s adorable. It’s endearing.”
She smiled again and he kissed her forehead before asking, “So what do you propose we do in the way of food?”
“There’s a Tesco right down the street across from my flat. We could go get something and eat it at home.”
“Yeah, alright. You lead the way.”
Tonks grinned and took Remus’ hand. She led him to the muggle shopping mart where they bought an array of food that required little to no preparation at all. That little preparation, it was decided, was to be carried out by Remus. And hand in hand they ended up back at her apartment, where they devoured a bagged salad, a large tin of beef stew, and a baguette. Then after a rather pleasurable hour on her couch Remus whispered, “Tonks, our Order meeting starts in about forty five minutes.”
Her expression immediately fell and she muttered, “Oh, bugger.”
“We could walk.” Remus quite fancied the idea of walking hand in hand across the city with her.
She pillowed her head on his shoulder and after a moment of careful consideration, she said, “I have a better idea.” She moved faster than he could have imagined, scrambling from the couch and into the hall, where he was sure he heard a distinct crash. He coaxed his limbs to get up and follow, and when he reached her, she was rummaging through the closet.
“What, may I ask, are you doing?”
“I’m looking for…” her voice came out of the tiny enclosure muffled, “…this.” Tonks leapt back out into the hall where she successfully knocked over the only vase in the entire flat with what appeared to be a broom handle. In it were the flowers Remus had given her a month prior. Crashing to the floor, the vase sent shards of glass in all directions. Tonks winced and quickly shut her eyes tightly.
Remus chuckled. “I’ll get it.” Pulling his wand from his trousers, he pointed it at the glass and spoke clearly, “Reparo.” It flew back together and then onto the end table it called home.
“Thanks, “she smiled. “I like having you around.”
“Because I clean up your messes?”
“That’s one reason,” she teased and then brought forth the broom again, making sure that nothing breakable was in its path.
“It’s a nice broom,” Remus said, not sure what he was supposed to do with the object she had thrust in front of him.
“Yes. But that’s not the point. This is my old Hogwarts broom. And we’re flying it to Grimmauld Place.” Her entire face lit up and she grinned at him.
“Flying? It’s a fifteen-minute walk. If we feel adventurous we could just take the metro, even though I’m not entirely fond of underground trains. It’s dangerous to just take a joy ride around London.”
“Let’s look at the starts Remus. Watch them higher than all of London.” Her smile grew even larger. Tonks grabbed a cloak from the rack by the door and led him outside onto the roof. Once they made sure they were completely alone and even the darkened streets below were empty, they performed disillusionment charms and mounted the broom. She kicked off and he hugged tightly to her waist.
“Shouldn’t I be the one driving the room?” Remus asked, noticing how odd it was for his girlfriend to be taking him to an engagement and as she was so many years his junior.
“It’s my broom, I’ll be conducting the flight, thank you,” she said not backing down at all.
They rose above the clouds and the temperature dropped considerably. Remus wrapped his arms even tighter around her. “Warm,” he asked. He felt her nod and saw her clear shape point upward, distorting the sky where her arm raised.
There in spite of the city lights, the stars shone brighter than either had ever seen them. It was like they burned especially bright just for them.
And then quickly as the dream came into existence it vanished, and Remus found himself turning to the side and reaching out. But all his hand found was an empty pillow.
---
“Lupin, my old friend,” Arthur said as he seated himself next to Remus by the fire. “What is the matter?”
Remus pried his eyes away from the flames and turned to face him. “Nothing. Nothing is the matter at all.”
“I think we both know you’re lying. I have seven children and they may think me oblivious, but if there’s anything I’ve learned from them it is to decipher their facades.”
Remus didn’t consider himself as having a façade as much as keeping a strong face.
“You know, I’m doing this for your own good. Molly’s version included a few flying pots and a lot of screaming. We hate to see the two of you like this.”
“The two of us?” Remus asked. In full truth, he knew exactly what Arthur was talking about, but he’d rather not admit it to himself.
“Don’t be daft, Remus. Molly has her ‘round about once a week, you know. And what would be getting better in any other circumstance is getting worse. You’ve about driven her insane, you have.”
Remus gritted his teeth. Did no one see that what he was doing was for her benefit? “I know what I’m doing. In time, she’ll see that it’s all for the best. She’s young, Arthur, she’ll find love again.”
The way the firelight hit Arthur’s face, it almost made him softer. His creased brow, wrought with worry became a veritable canyon. “Molly and I listen to her every week. She says she loves you each time we see her. And it’s apparent that these feelings are not going to just go away.”
“They will. Time heals all wounds.” By now, Remus’ voice was strained as if he was pleading with some invisible force to make his words true.
“Look at yourself, Remus. Look at your scars. Yes time heals but it does not numb. Don’t scar her.”
“I don’t mean to hurt her!”
“I know. And moreover, she knows that you would never purposely hurt her. You’re not the kind.”
Remus sat pensive for a moment and picked at his threadbare trousers. “she can’t want me. She shouldn’t want me.” He thought of the way he denied her. It was unforgivable.
“But she does, and she will. You should be glad Remus, to have found love in the midst of all this chaos.”
“No,” he said bolting from his chair. Remus began pacing back and forth furiously, as it the floor itself had wronged him. “No, you’re wrong. You and Molly are lucky, James and Lilly were lucky. You all found loves that work.”
“The only reason it is not working for you and Tonks is because you won’t allow it.”
“I refuse to allow it because I’m doing the right thing.”
“No, Remus. You’re scared. You are confusing fear with righteousness. So many mistakes big and small were made because men are too scared to face the truth.”
Remus squeezed his temple and said, “There is nothing else I can do.” The voice that left his mouth was small and strained. It reminded him of the time he had tried to run away from Hogwarts as a boy, convinced that the entire student body would benefit form his absence. When Filch finally caught up with him and dragged him to the headmaster’s office his explanation was the same. It seemed that ever since boyhood, or early wolfhood, all Remus Lupin knew how to do was run away. And no matter how hard he tried, he could never claw his way back through that open door completely of his own devices.
Arthur stood and joined him by the window, where he had brought his pacing to an abrupt halt. “This is all I have to say for now, but Remus, if you cannot bring yourself to be in a relationship with her again, at least speak with Tonks. Don’t deny her your entire self.”
He said nothing, only watched the snowfall outside and candy coat the slumbering earth. Under this veil of night, everything would change and when the world woke up, it would be taken by surprise.
Molly appeared on the downstairs landing and said something about the children that Remus did not quite catch. He was still envisioning Tonks waking up to see the outdoors covered in a think white blanket. Maybe she’d be inspired and morph her hair to match. It almost made him laugh and cry at the same time when he thought of her leaning in to a grimy window at Grimmauld Place and telling him softly, “Even if I was not a witch, I’d know there was some magic in the world every time I woke up to this.” He smiled in spite of himself.
Molly addressed him finally, saying, “Remus, the least you can do tonight is return her broom.” She pointed toward the door, where leaning against the jam was Tonks’ old broom. The one they rode, so in love, to an Order meeting and promptly forgot about by the fire. He walked over and ran one aged hand over the handle.
“Where did you…”
Molly cut him off mid sentence. But even so, he was not sure if he could have finished the thought. This was all so surreal. “It was in the cupboard at Grimmauld Place. When we were getting some of the things we left behind last week. I couldn’t just leave it, now could I? And had she come tonight, we would have returned it to her.” She looked pointedly at him and narrowed her eyes.
Arthur stepped up and put an arm around his wife’s shoulders. “We’re not asking you to take her back, Remus. Just talk to her. She loves you.”
Molly snorted and slid out from his arm. Picking up a laundry basket she said, “You’re not.”
Remus was so overwhelmed that all he could muster was, “Yeah, alright.” He ran away last June and if he couldn’t claw his way back through that open door, then he’d fly back to her.
Leading up to flight was a bit of a blur. He was still reasoning internally whether this was the correct course of action. Though, he went through the motions. He bounded up the stairs to get his ratty cloak and outside to take off from the Weasley’s garden. Involuntarily, it seemed, he put a disillusionment charm on himself. But as he rose through the atmosphere he became hyper-aware. The snowflakes, just born from nearby clouds stuck to his hair and clothes so that when he looked down at himself, he only saw a frosty shell. The stars on this Christmas night were brilliant above the heavy cover of clouds. They twinkled at him and all at once, memories he had been repressing of Tonks came flooding back. Things like her smell: spicy and warm, her array of hair colours: more vibrant and varied than the rainbow could ever wish to be, her tinkling laugh, and her eyes: more brilliant than even these stars, all took over his senses.
Remus circled the apartment building three times to find a place to land and settled on a discreet alley way on the immediate right. Beside rubbish bins overfilled with holiday refuse he took off the charm and shook snow from his graying tresses/ Rounding the corner and climbing the stairs to her flat, he felt nervousness grow with every step. His shoes sported holes and his sweater was worn thin. The cloak was even worse than the other two. But he was so close, and clutching the broom close to his side he reasoned that, yes he had a reason to be here. He walked down the familiar hall and stopped abruptly at her door. Readying himself he whispered softly to himself, “I’m here Tonks. I’m here and all I have to do is knock.,” and immediately felt like a silly lovesick teenager for talking to himself.
He raised his hand and knocked once.
He knocked twice. And no one came to the door. He knocked again, but noticed that he could not detect any light from the peephole or from under the door. It was all completely dark.
He had missed her. Slumping against the door, he allowed his back to slide against its surface until he was crumpled in a heap on the floor, head leaning against the magic broom for support. It reminded him of why he was here, and moreover who was not here with him. Maybe she spent Christmas with her family after all. Or maybe everyone was wrong and Tonks had moved on. He could not complain, not really. It was what he wanted. But no matter how much he reasoned with himself, he could not construct a logic that explained why he, a grown man, was beginning to cry. He felt the first tear overspill the floodgate and lost count of the rest. He curled up against her door and thought that he might stay there until she returned. “Tonks,” he began whispering to no one at all again, “O love you and I left you. And I can’t take you back.”
Slam!
He jumped as three doors down, an elderly man dressed in a trench and a cap entered the hallway and closed the door behind him. On his arm was a leash, which was attached at the other end to a cat that looked less than thrilled by the arrangement. Remus wiped his eyes and stood up, trying to ignore how ridiculous he was feeling.
“Yer lookin’ fer the girl in tha’ apartment?” asked the man, adjusting his large spectacles.
“Yes,” Remus said. “Do you know where she is?”
He scooped up his cat and began rubbing its fur in long strokes. “She works late. I asked ‘er to take out me cat while I was a’ me cousin’s ‘ouse, but she said she was workin’. On Christmas Day!”
Remus nodded, the lump in his throat inexplicably growing again.
The old man’s eyes sparkled as he began again, “Yeh’ll be the one to set ‘er righ’ again, then? She’s always mopin’ ‘bout. Yeh kin tell she’s bin cryin’ when yer pass ‘er in the hall.” He watched Remus expectantly as did the cat. He broke under the scrutiny.
“No,” he cats his eyes downward and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m the one who did that to her. I won’t be able to pick up the pieces.”
The old man straightened his spine and said, “I ‘spect yeh’ll be on yer way, then?”
“Yes, I’ll be on my way, then.” Remus wrapped his cloak a little tighter around his thin frame and added, “Happy Christmas.”
He nodded and returned the greeting before fixing his small bespeckled eyes on Remus. Remus took the hint and descended the stairs, glancing back at the door and the broom. For half an hour he had deluded himself into thinking that maybe, just maybe, he could be with her again. But he took all that happened as a sign. All of the old arguments worked their way back into his mind, clinging to his memories of her, making sure that he would not make this mistake again. As he pushed through the exit, cold air chilled his damp face. He found the alley and glanced back at the city and sky that was visible between the buildings. A clock situated on a traffic light caught his eyes. It read eleven thirty p.m. just as he turned to apparate back to the Burrow.
---
“That it dearie?”
Tonks’ head shot upward as the matronly clerk called her attention. Over her head, fluorescent lights threatened to burn out any second. Mostly, they just added to her headache.
“Erm…yes. That’s all,” she said and awkwardly threaded her thin wrist through the plastic loops of her shopping bag.
Nymphadora Tonks stepped out of the Tesco across the street from her flat at exactly eleven thirty-five p.m. She scanned the road with her eyes and tugged her red and green fitted cap over the stringy brown strands that refused to relinquish hold on her head. Crossing the street, she reflected on how cruel she had been to herself this Christmas. She pulled an extra shift at work so some of the aurors with families wouldn’t be asked. She knew she could go see her own parents, knew that she was welcome with the Weasleys. But going to the Burrow would mean having to see him and she was not sure her fragile heart could take that kind of disappointment again. Molly had begged her to come, but every time she asked, Tonks declined. And she knew that visiting her mum and dad in this state would do nothing but worry and depress them. So she sat in a darkened auror’s office for hours, almost wishing that something would happen so she would not have to reflect on her life now. Yet, nothing did and she spent most of Christmas sedimentary in her office chair. Then instead of apparating or taking the floo home, she walked. She went at a very leisurely pace. The darkened streets felt like home. Her now bland tresses blended with the late night colours so well that she was not even sure that she was real. Once upon a time she had a drive, a reason to stand out. But ever since Remus left, she found getting out of bed took all of the motivation she could muster.
She stood with her feet on the very corner of the sidewalk, staring upward as snowflakes gingerly kissed her nose and felt one lonely tear escape. She was not foreign to the feeling that there were still tears left to cry. She doubted they would ever run out. And after a black cab passed in front of her eyes, she crossed the street, her heart as heavy as her weary feet.
As her footsteps slowed near the door, Tonks noticed something amiss. Right in front of her flat, leaning on a decorative poinsettia that she put out but never remembered to water was a broomstick. It was very ordinary to the unknowing eye, but one look told her everything. She dropped the plastic shopping bag and whispered, “Oh, Remus.” Out of the plastic fell a bag salad, a tin of beef stew, and a baguette.
She swiveled around, hoping in vain to see him step from the shadows. But all was quiet on the top floor of the building. Not even the other tenants made the slightest sound from within their walls. “Remus,” she whispered again and sunk down into a sitting position with her back against the door. Tears began to spill as she spoke his name and where she sat, she could swear that carpet was still warm. Maybe it was her imagination, but it was real enough for Tonks to constitute her need to stay there a few moments longer. The spilled contents of her bag caught her eye as she glanced around through the heavy cover of tears. She had to admit, her feast was a poor substitute for the real thing.