The Simple Truth
Title: The Simple Truth
Author:
patriot_jackie
Rating & Warnings: PG - NonePrompt: "And in my hour of darkness//She is standing right in front of me//Speaking words of wisdom, let it be." -- Let It Be
Word Count: 3072 Words
Summary: After Dumbledore’s death, to continue on for the hope of a better future, Remus must confront his doubts and fears for the present. The only person who can make him see is the woman he’s been pushing away. The post-hospital scene of HBP.
AN: I’m not sure if this sucks or not. Honestly. Which isn’t the greatest AN to preclude a fic… Truth is I wrestled with their characters; I wanted this to be canon, leaving room for why he leaves her again in DH even though he was seemingly convinced at the end of HBP. But considering I find Remus OOC in DH from my opinion, it made things confusing. I never would have attempted this without having ventured into another fandom. And I never would have completed it without some firm prodding and encouragement from
godricgal. Thankies! :)
Remus Lupin stood before a window on the fourth floor of Hogwarts, staring blankly ahead. He’d left the Hospital Wing a few minutes after Harry and Minerva had retreated, walking without a direction, though he vaguely remembered passing the library. Oh the memories he had of that place… A happier time that seemed lifetimes ago.
A time before Voldemort.
Had such a time ever existed? A better question was would such a time ever exist again? Not before, but simply without.
Without was where they found themselves now. Without their leader. Teacher, mentor, father figure, most brilliant mind of the age. Without Dumbledore, a future without Voldemort was difficult to imagine. Hope of such a thing seemed misguided, too fantastic to be rooted in reality. People would be turning to Harry now, he realised.
He’d read what the Prophet said about James’ and Lily’s son being the One, but the truth of the matter was, One or not, Harry was still just a boy. It wasn’t that Remus didn’t have the utmost confidence in Harry’s abilities; he’d proven himself more than enough times in situations that most grown wizards would never have survived. But escaping from Voldemort’s clutches wasn’t the same as destroying him.
He wasn’t sure what they would do, now. Without Dumbledore as their shield, their existence was soon going to become heavily burdened. - Both their places within the Order and without it.
It was all the more reason to stay away from Tonks. At least she would only have to worry about her membership to the Order rather than the double jeopardy of being involved with a werewolf. He had been moved by Fleur’s declaration to stand by Bill no matter the cursed injury he’d sustained and not so surprised by Tonks' outburst, in retrospect. How he wished things could be so simple between himself and Nymphadora.
Speaking of whom, he heard her tread approaching him from behind. He wasn’t sure how he could recognize her walk, especially considering how subdued she and it were, but when she stopped a length behind him, he expected her voice when she spoke.
“I’m sorry I made a scene,” she said softly.
He wasn't expecting her apology, but Remus didn’t turn. He was too tired from the terrible events of the night, and he feared he wouldn’t be able to resist her in his current frame of mind. “It’s all right,” he said equally quiet, voice hoarse. Frankly, he was surprised how long they’d been able to keep their entire relationship quiet, let alone their separation.
But perhaps she hadn’t heard his answer. More than likely, she didn’t believe it. “It was selfish to bring up our… When there’s so much else to be concerned about,” she continued, rushing her words. “And I shouldn’t have put you-“
“Tonks,” he interrupted, turning to face her, eyes connecting with hers. He repeated, “It’s all right.”
She nodded her consent surprisingly quick, and then let her gaze sweep over him. He realised that it was probably her intention in the first place, to entice him to turn around. Sneaky little… Despite the sombre atmosphere, Remus felt an urge to smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He denied it and let her look over him for a moment more before turning back for the window.
He despised himself as he caught a glimpse of the hurt pass through her features, and sagged, leaning against the stone sill, running his fingers once through his hair absently.
Silence engulfed them for a few awkward moments.
She was the first to speak again. “How are you holding up?” she asked, forging the conversation ahead. Her tone was soft and strained; he could hear the tears threatening, but he knew from experience that she wouldn’t let them fall.
His heart clenched at that, and then the reality as his gaze fell to the ground far below, his imagination filling in how it must have happened. It was all he could do to merely shake his head. He didn’t know when he would be all right again, if ever.
“Me, too,” she agreed quietly.
Something occurred to him then, and he gave a short, ironic chuckle. He imagined Tonks was confused behind him, so he said, “Do you realise everyone’s slept through this?” He shook his head in disbelief and repeated slower, “Everyone’s slept through it. The worst thing that could possibly happen, and no one knows yet… knows that he’s gone.”
He sensed her take tentative step forward. “I owled Kingsley. He’s gone to alert the rest of the Order after the Ministry. I think Prof-” she caught herself, “Minerva will be informing the students officially in the morning, though I doubt they don’t already know.”
Remus nodded. At least everyone else seemed to be thinking clearly. He had been, but that was before he had fully comprehended the situation. “That’s probably best. This may very well be the last night they spend here.”
He’d said it so easily earlier. Simply Dumbledore is dead, unaffected almost, but really, he had been testing the words, saying them aloud, convincing himself of the truth.
Silence reigned again, Remus wondering if, with Dumbledore gone, this sort of situation was going to become more common as his mind drifted back a year before. Back when, in a blur of panic, they’d discovered Harry and his friends had rushed straight into Voldemort’s trap. In the Department of Mysteries, they’d arrived just in time. He remembered the battle, remembered watching Tonks tumble down the stone steps, when he’d been forced to stay and protect Harry rather than rush to her side. He’d felt sick already, seeing her sprawled motionless and broken, and then Sirius-
“Where do we go from here?” she asked, gratefully interrupting his ruminations.
He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to concentrate on her words to him rather than the fresh feelings of grief and sorrow. His mission with the ferals had come up too quickly after that; he hadn’t had time to properly mourn his life-long friend. There hadn’t even been a funeral. And then he’d also had a separate loss to grieve at the time. One that he was still grieving.
Recalling what she’d only just asked, Remus had an inkling that she was offering him a crossroads with that question. It was loaded, and knowing her, he knew that had been her intention.
Avoiding the other implications, he answered, “Well, the Order needs a new leader. I suppose that will be the first issue we’ll need to address after… Dumbledore’s memorial.”
If she was disappointed with his answer, she didn’t let it show, replying after a brief hesitation by asking, “Who do you think?”
He shrugged. “Alastor’s the most experienced of us.”
“I think that would actually be a mark against him,” she answered levelly, but he didn’t have to look to know the mischievous spark in her eyes.
Despite himself, Remus actually sniggered at the implication behind the statement. It was really wasn’t funny; the man had seen too much, and it had left him… paranoid, for lack of a better word.
It felt good to laugh, he thought.
He turned his head slightly to her, watching her from the corner of his eye. “I take it you don’t consider yourself in the running?”
She snorted. “Of course I do. We can defeat Voldie with loud punk rock and bright, clashing colors.”
He choked back the chuckle, but couldn’t prevent the wistful smile curling his lips. She almost sounded like herself; he almost sounded like himself. But Remus didn't allow himself to think anything further into it and said seriously, “You’re far more capable than that, you know.”
“You’re far more capable than most people in the Order,” she said just as earnestly.
He clenched his jaw, turning back to the window. He could not, would not even consider taking the lead. Even so, he said, “I think Kingsley would be a good choice.”
“King would be great,” she readily agreed. “Do you think he could handle both the Ministry and the Order, though?”
“Who then? Harry? Minerva will be overwhelmed with the school if it’s allowed to stay open.”
“Remus-” she entreated softly, undoubtedly sensing his defensive shift in demeanour.
“Don’t.”
She huffed. “Don’t what?” she fired back, flying from gentle persuasion to anger. “Don’t believe in you? Remus, if you haven’t figured it out by now, I’m never going to stop. What you become one night a month does not define who you are!”
“It’s not a matter of belief, Tonks,” he bit back just as forcefully. “It’s a matter of ability.”
“And you’re so incompetent? Despite whatever low opinion you may have of yourself, you are brilliant with a wand. No one will ever be able to fill Dumbledore’s shoes, but you have a right mind and heart for it. And with all that bloody legislation in place, you have nothing but freedom, which is just what we need.”
He ignored her compliments, not wanting to discuss it. Instead, he said darkly, "Readymade. Just perfect for the job.”
He wished he could take it back as soon as it was out of his mouth.
She sucked in her breath sharply.
Remus closed his eyes in self-recrimination. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” He didn’t know why he’d said that. Tonks wasn’t being facetious, and he certainly didn’t hold anything against Dumbledore.
Silence.
He did not begrudge Dumbledore, Remus thought to himself again. He could never. It was unfounded, baseless, and he did not feel that way.
“You know I… I told him I wished I could hate him,” Tonks confessed quietly, “For what he was doing to you.”
Remus felt his insides freeze as an icy weight dropped through his chest. “What? When….” he tried hoarsely. “When did you-?”
“Not too long after you left,” she admitted. “I was angry, but it's no excuse. Things were never the same between us. He would never look me in the eye, unless I… Unless he was apologising.”
Remus was still in shock from her confession, trying to wrap his mind around it. He said cautiously, “I’m sure he knew, then, that you didn’t really mean it.”
“No,” she corrected him immediately. “I did mean it. Inasmuch that part of me wanted to, but I could never. He knew that.” She drew a shaky breath. “I wanted to apologise, but it wouldn’t have been the truth. I think he knew that, too. I wish that I’d never told him in the first place.”
Remus sighed. “It was never his fault, Nymphadora. How could you-?”
“Yes, it was! Not all of it, but he should have known how it would affect you! Even if he didn’t before, he could see after he’d sent you!”
He opened his mouth to argue the point, but she cut him off.
“And don’t call me Nymphadora!” she said as an afterthought. “You lost that privilege when you decided you didn’t have the right to love me anymore.”
He bristled. “That is not what I decided. I still love you.”
“And you really expect me to leave you when I know that?”
He was hindering her? "Yes," he answered thoughtfully after a moment. "I suppose I do. Stop worrying about me and move on with your life."
She made a strangled noise. “Oh, bloody h--, Remus.” She sniffled. “I could really use you right about now.”
Looking over his shoulder, he saw her, with her back to him, wrap her arms around herself, head falling forward. She inhaled deeply and let the air out in unsteady increments.
He only hesitated for a moment before turning fully to face her. In two steps, he stood directly behind her.
He reached out, clasping her shoulder and dragging his hand briefly downward before Tonks spun quickly around and grasped him in a tight hug. Face buried in his chest and arms securely fastened around his neck, he could feel how she shivered. In another moment, he was pressing her to him, arms wrapped around her. He dipped his head, inhaling the scent of her hair.
“You’re shaking,” she noted absently.
He chuckled. “Yes. So are you.”
She didn’t laugh with him. Instead, she broke, clinging to him tighter and wept, whispering his name.
His throat felt dry, tears burning in his own eyes. He held her closer, trying, and failing, not to relish the feeling of her being in his arms again.
“What are you even fighting for, Remus?” she murmured against him, words muffled by his ragged robes.
He didn’t answer. Surely, she wasn’t asking him of all people his motives.
But she was, and Tonks asked the question that made him question everything: “What’s the point of fighting for a better world if you don’t believe you belong in it?”
He realized with a start that his beliefs had been turned upside down during his time with the ferals. He’d been so vehemently denying it, telling her he was the same person, but phrased in such a question, he could see. Where he used to firmly believe that he and his kind deserved equal footing in society, he now wasn’t so sure.
They weren’t subhuman, meant to be dominated, but should they be separate? Was he a man or a monster? Did a distinction even matter?
He struggled to remain on even keel with her.
“That’s beside the point,” he said. No, it wasn’t.
“No, it’s not,” she verbalised for him.
He tried a different tactic. “I’m so dangerous, Dora. And after what I’ve participated in-”
She lifted her head to look at him. “I don’t care. You know I don’t! It's not like it was ever you. You have to understand that by now!”
“You should care," he said gently. "What if something happened to you?”
“It never would! Not with you,” she insisted. “You’re far too careful! We both are.”
“You can’t know that for sure.”
“So you choose to live in fear?”
He clenched his teeth together. “I choose not to take unnecessary risks.”
Tonks pushed away from him, anger radiating from her defensive stance. “Is being in love so dangerous?”
He winced, denying immediately, “Of course not.”
“What’s the difference between friendship and love, then? Because you’re here, obviously, so you must deem the threat manageable.”
The accusation stung, but he could see her point.
“Nymphadora,” he tried again. “You and I are… much closer. More than just work collegues.”
“Collegues? Is that what you think of us all? This is about you staying alone and separate from everyone?”
“No,” he denied immediately, and then took it back. “Yes. Yes, that’s it exactly.” It was the truth, after all.
Tonks dropped her arms from their previous position locked across her chest, the anger dissipating from her in an instant. “Because they’re separate?”
He knew who she meant.
“I should be separate, Tonks. I don’t belong here.”
"Then why are you fighting?" she asked again. "I know it's not just revenge."
He couldn't answer. He was fighting because he had to; because it was the right thing to do. Because he couldn't sit by idly and do nothing. But she wanted more than that - she wanted the reason behind it all.
And Remus didn't know that reason.
“You’re not the same, Remus!" Tonks answered for him when he said nothing. "You may have the same curse, but your heart is different! Can’t you see that? That’s why he chose you, not because you’re a werewolf! You went there to change them, but you let them change you instead!”
He stared at her, unable to form a comeback. When he said nothing, her gaze fell down to the floor beneath her feet.
That had been the original mission; he wasn’t sure when he began to question it. Had he honestly ever believed Dumbledore had sent him because he was a werewolf? To separate him from the others? He wasn’t sure, but he did know that he’d needed to hear that affirmation since before he’d even begun his time among them.
He was different, Dumbledore had told him. The Headmaster had even tried to convince him once, when he’d been reporting on the mission:
“Remember what separates us from them, Remus,” Dumbledore had said in parting.
He paused at the door of his office, hand hovering over the handle. “What’s that?”
“Love. Show them that love can exist between us all."
He nodded. "I'll do my best."
"And Remus." The Headmaster waited until his former pupil faced him. "Never forget the abundance you have here.”
He was different from the ferals; Remus could acknowledge that. Whereas their separation from the Wizarding World was an act of hatred and rejection, his had been solely for protection and compassion, for those that loved and hated him alike.
His decision to accept should have never been based in dread and misplaced hurt, but the belief that he could make a difference in the war.
He'd been blinded by his own lacking sense of woth. And knowing all that, believing that, a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long while filled him: acceptance.
He would never be able to change what he was, but who he was - he had all the control in the world over that. If Tonks was willing to love him, he would love her to the best of his ability. And he would keep her safe, no matter what the cost.
Remus approached her again, gently lifting her chin when she wouldn’t look at him. “I don’t deserve you,” he said hoarsely, honestly.
Tears streamed down her cheeks, defeat registering in her eyes. “Remus,” she whispered desperately. “Please. It doesn’t matter what you do or do not deserve!”
He smiled softly, gently wiping away her tears with his thumbs. “Yes, you’re exactly right. But I don’t deserve you, all the same. In fact, I don’t think I deserve anything or anyone after my behaviour,” he said lightly.
She grasped onto his wrists, his hands still framing her cordiform face.
“But I won’t waste anymore time, Nymphadora. I’ve been a fool. I think you’re more stubborn than James and Sirius combined, and my logic could never match their wisdom when it came to our friendship.”
Her mouth hung slightly agape. “Does this mean…?”
“Yes,” he said quietly, resting his forehead against hers. “If you’ll have me, then yes. I am yours.”
The End
AN: Be brutal! It's a bit abrupt at the end... =|
Author:
patriot_jackie
Rating & Warnings: PG - NonePrompt: "And in my hour of darkness//She is standing right in front of me//Speaking words of wisdom, let it be." -- Let It Be
Word Count: 3072 Words
Summary: After Dumbledore’s death, to continue on for the hope of a better future, Remus must confront his doubts and fears for the present. The only person who can make him see is the woman he’s been pushing away. The post-hospital scene of HBP.
AN: I’m not sure if this sucks or not. Honestly. Which isn’t the greatest AN to preclude a fic… Truth is I wrestled with their characters; I wanted this to be canon, leaving room for why he leaves her again in DH even though he was seemingly convinced at the end of HBP. But considering I find Remus OOC in DH from my opinion, it made things confusing. I never would have attempted this without having ventured into another fandom. And I never would have completed it without some firm prodding and encouragement from
godricgal. Thankies! :)
Remus Lupin stood before a window on the fourth floor of Hogwarts, staring blankly ahead. He’d left the Hospital Wing a few minutes after Harry and Minerva had retreated, walking without a direction, though he vaguely remembered passing the library. Oh the memories he had of that place… A happier time that seemed lifetimes ago.
A time before Voldemort.
Had such a time ever existed? A better question was would such a time ever exist again? Not before, but simply without.
Without was where they found themselves now. Without their leader. Teacher, mentor, father figure, most brilliant mind of the age. Without Dumbledore, a future without Voldemort was difficult to imagine. Hope of such a thing seemed misguided, too fantastic to be rooted in reality. People would be turning to Harry now, he realised.
He’d read what the Prophet said about James’ and Lily’s son being the One, but the truth of the matter was, One or not, Harry was still just a boy. It wasn’t that Remus didn’t have the utmost confidence in Harry’s abilities; he’d proven himself more than enough times in situations that most grown wizards would never have survived. But escaping from Voldemort’s clutches wasn’t the same as destroying him.
He wasn’t sure what they would do, now. Without Dumbledore as their shield, their existence was soon going to become heavily burdened. - Both their places within the Order and without it.
It was all the more reason to stay away from Tonks. At least she would only have to worry about her membership to the Order rather than the double jeopardy of being involved with a werewolf. He had been moved by Fleur’s declaration to stand by Bill no matter the cursed injury he’d sustained and not so surprised by Tonks' outburst, in retrospect. How he wished things could be so simple between himself and Nymphadora.
Speaking of whom, he heard her tread approaching him from behind. He wasn’t sure how he could recognize her walk, especially considering how subdued she and it were, but when she stopped a length behind him, he expected her voice when she spoke.
“I’m sorry I made a scene,” she said softly.
He wasn't expecting her apology, but Remus didn’t turn. He was too tired from the terrible events of the night, and he feared he wouldn’t be able to resist her in his current frame of mind. “It’s all right,” he said equally quiet, voice hoarse. Frankly, he was surprised how long they’d been able to keep their entire relationship quiet, let alone their separation.
But perhaps she hadn’t heard his answer. More than likely, she didn’t believe it. “It was selfish to bring up our… When there’s so much else to be concerned about,” she continued, rushing her words. “And I shouldn’t have put you-“
“Tonks,” he interrupted, turning to face her, eyes connecting with hers. He repeated, “It’s all right.”
She nodded her consent surprisingly quick, and then let her gaze sweep over him. He realised that it was probably her intention in the first place, to entice him to turn around. Sneaky little… Despite the sombre atmosphere, Remus felt an urge to smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He denied it and let her look over him for a moment more before turning back for the window.
He despised himself as he caught a glimpse of the hurt pass through her features, and sagged, leaning against the stone sill, running his fingers once through his hair absently.
Silence engulfed them for a few awkward moments.
She was the first to speak again. “How are you holding up?” she asked, forging the conversation ahead. Her tone was soft and strained; he could hear the tears threatening, but he knew from experience that she wouldn’t let them fall.
His heart clenched at that, and then the reality as his gaze fell to the ground far below, his imagination filling in how it must have happened. It was all he could do to merely shake his head. He didn’t know when he would be all right again, if ever.
“Me, too,” she agreed quietly.
Something occurred to him then, and he gave a short, ironic chuckle. He imagined Tonks was confused behind him, so he said, “Do you realise everyone’s slept through this?” He shook his head in disbelief and repeated slower, “Everyone’s slept through it. The worst thing that could possibly happen, and no one knows yet… knows that he’s gone.”
He sensed her take tentative step forward. “I owled Kingsley. He’s gone to alert the rest of the Order after the Ministry. I think Prof-” she caught herself, “Minerva will be informing the students officially in the morning, though I doubt they don’t already know.”
Remus nodded. At least everyone else seemed to be thinking clearly. He had been, but that was before he had fully comprehended the situation. “That’s probably best. This may very well be the last night they spend here.”
He’d said it so easily earlier. Simply Dumbledore is dead, unaffected almost, but really, he had been testing the words, saying them aloud, convincing himself of the truth.
Silence reigned again, Remus wondering if, with Dumbledore gone, this sort of situation was going to become more common as his mind drifted back a year before. Back when, in a blur of panic, they’d discovered Harry and his friends had rushed straight into Voldemort’s trap. In the Department of Mysteries, they’d arrived just in time. He remembered the battle, remembered watching Tonks tumble down the stone steps, when he’d been forced to stay and protect Harry rather than rush to her side. He’d felt sick already, seeing her sprawled motionless and broken, and then Sirius-
“Where do we go from here?” she asked, gratefully interrupting his ruminations.
He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to concentrate on her words to him rather than the fresh feelings of grief and sorrow. His mission with the ferals had come up too quickly after that; he hadn’t had time to properly mourn his life-long friend. There hadn’t even been a funeral. And then he’d also had a separate loss to grieve at the time. One that he was still grieving.
Recalling what she’d only just asked, Remus had an inkling that she was offering him a crossroads with that question. It was loaded, and knowing her, he knew that had been her intention.
Avoiding the other implications, he answered, “Well, the Order needs a new leader. I suppose that will be the first issue we’ll need to address after… Dumbledore’s memorial.”
If she was disappointed with his answer, she didn’t let it show, replying after a brief hesitation by asking, “Who do you think?”
He shrugged. “Alastor’s the most experienced of us.”
“I think that would actually be a mark against him,” she answered levelly, but he didn’t have to look to know the mischievous spark in her eyes.
Despite himself, Remus actually sniggered at the implication behind the statement. It was really wasn’t funny; the man had seen too much, and it had left him… paranoid, for lack of a better word.
It felt good to laugh, he thought.
He turned his head slightly to her, watching her from the corner of his eye. “I take it you don’t consider yourself in the running?”
She snorted. “Of course I do. We can defeat Voldie with loud punk rock and bright, clashing colors.”
He choked back the chuckle, but couldn’t prevent the wistful smile curling his lips. She almost sounded like herself; he almost sounded like himself. But Remus didn't allow himself to think anything further into it and said seriously, “You’re far more capable than that, you know.”
“You’re far more capable than most people in the Order,” she said just as earnestly.
He clenched his jaw, turning back to the window. He could not, would not even consider taking the lead. Even so, he said, “I think Kingsley would be a good choice.”
“King would be great,” she readily agreed. “Do you think he could handle both the Ministry and the Order, though?”
“Who then? Harry? Minerva will be overwhelmed with the school if it’s allowed to stay open.”
“Remus-” she entreated softly, undoubtedly sensing his defensive shift in demeanour.
“Don’t.”
She huffed. “Don’t what?” she fired back, flying from gentle persuasion to anger. “Don’t believe in you? Remus, if you haven’t figured it out by now, I’m never going to stop. What you become one night a month does not define who you are!”
“It’s not a matter of belief, Tonks,” he bit back just as forcefully. “It’s a matter of ability.”
“And you’re so incompetent? Despite whatever low opinion you may have of yourself, you are brilliant with a wand. No one will ever be able to fill Dumbledore’s shoes, but you have a right mind and heart for it. And with all that bloody legislation in place, you have nothing but freedom, which is just what we need.”
He ignored her compliments, not wanting to discuss it. Instead, he said darkly, "Readymade. Just perfect for the job.”
He wished he could take it back as soon as it was out of his mouth.
She sucked in her breath sharply.
Remus closed his eyes in self-recrimination. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” He didn’t know why he’d said that. Tonks wasn’t being facetious, and he certainly didn’t hold anything against Dumbledore.
Silence.
He did not begrudge Dumbledore, Remus thought to himself again. He could never. It was unfounded, baseless, and he did not feel that way.
“You know I… I told him I wished I could hate him,” Tonks confessed quietly, “For what he was doing to you.”
Remus felt his insides freeze as an icy weight dropped through his chest. “What? When….” he tried hoarsely. “When did you-?”
“Not too long after you left,” she admitted. “I was angry, but it's no excuse. Things were never the same between us. He would never look me in the eye, unless I… Unless he was apologising.”
Remus was still in shock from her confession, trying to wrap his mind around it. He said cautiously, “I’m sure he knew, then, that you didn’t really mean it.”
“No,” she corrected him immediately. “I did mean it. Inasmuch that part of me wanted to, but I could never. He knew that.” She drew a shaky breath. “I wanted to apologise, but it wouldn’t have been the truth. I think he knew that, too. I wish that I’d never told him in the first place.”
Remus sighed. “It was never his fault, Nymphadora. How could you-?”
“Yes, it was! Not all of it, but he should have known how it would affect you! Even if he didn’t before, he could see after he’d sent you!”
He opened his mouth to argue the point, but she cut him off.
“And don’t call me Nymphadora!” she said as an afterthought. “You lost that privilege when you decided you didn’t have the right to love me anymore.”
He bristled. “That is not what I decided. I still love you.”
“And you really expect me to leave you when I know that?”
He was hindering her? "Yes," he answered thoughtfully after a moment. "I suppose I do. Stop worrying about me and move on with your life."
She made a strangled noise. “Oh, bloody h--, Remus.” She sniffled. “I could really use you right about now.”
Looking over his shoulder, he saw her, with her back to him, wrap her arms around herself, head falling forward. She inhaled deeply and let the air out in unsteady increments.
He only hesitated for a moment before turning fully to face her. In two steps, he stood directly behind her.
He reached out, clasping her shoulder and dragging his hand briefly downward before Tonks spun quickly around and grasped him in a tight hug. Face buried in his chest and arms securely fastened around his neck, he could feel how she shivered. In another moment, he was pressing her to him, arms wrapped around her. He dipped his head, inhaling the scent of her hair.
“You’re shaking,” she noted absently.
He chuckled. “Yes. So are you.”
She didn’t laugh with him. Instead, she broke, clinging to him tighter and wept, whispering his name.
His throat felt dry, tears burning in his own eyes. He held her closer, trying, and failing, not to relish the feeling of her being in his arms again.
“What are you even fighting for, Remus?” she murmured against him, words muffled by his ragged robes.
He didn’t answer. Surely, she wasn’t asking him of all people his motives.
But she was, and Tonks asked the question that made him question everything: “What’s the point of fighting for a better world if you don’t believe you belong in it?”
He realized with a start that his beliefs had been turned upside down during his time with the ferals. He’d been so vehemently denying it, telling her he was the same person, but phrased in such a question, he could see. Where he used to firmly believe that he and his kind deserved equal footing in society, he now wasn’t so sure.
They weren’t subhuman, meant to be dominated, but should they be separate? Was he a man or a monster? Did a distinction even matter?
He struggled to remain on even keel with her.
“That’s beside the point,” he said. No, it wasn’t.
“No, it’s not,” she verbalised for him.
He tried a different tactic. “I’m so dangerous, Dora. And after what I’ve participated in-”
She lifted her head to look at him. “I don’t care. You know I don’t! It's not like it was ever you. You have to understand that by now!”
“You should care," he said gently. "What if something happened to you?”
“It never would! Not with you,” she insisted. “You’re far too careful! We both are.”
“You can’t know that for sure.”
“So you choose to live in fear?”
He clenched his teeth together. “I choose not to take unnecessary risks.”
Tonks pushed away from him, anger radiating from her defensive stance. “Is being in love so dangerous?”
He winced, denying immediately, “Of course not.”
“What’s the difference between friendship and love, then? Because you’re here, obviously, so you must deem the threat manageable.”
The accusation stung, but he could see her point.
“Nymphadora,” he tried again. “You and I are… much closer. More than just work collegues.”
“Collegues? Is that what you think of us all? This is about you staying alone and separate from everyone?”
“No,” he denied immediately, and then took it back. “Yes. Yes, that’s it exactly.” It was the truth, after all.
Tonks dropped her arms from their previous position locked across her chest, the anger dissipating from her in an instant. “Because they’re separate?”
He knew who she meant.
“I should be separate, Tonks. I don’t belong here.”
"Then why are you fighting?" she asked again. "I know it's not just revenge."
He couldn't answer. He was fighting because he had to; because it was the right thing to do. Because he couldn't sit by idly and do nothing. But she wanted more than that - she wanted the reason behind it all.
And Remus didn't know that reason.
“You’re not the same, Remus!" Tonks answered for him when he said nothing. "You may have the same curse, but your heart is different! Can’t you see that? That’s why he chose you, not because you’re a werewolf! You went there to change them, but you let them change you instead!”
He stared at her, unable to form a comeback. When he said nothing, her gaze fell down to the floor beneath her feet.
That had been the original mission; he wasn’t sure when he began to question it. Had he honestly ever believed Dumbledore had sent him because he was a werewolf? To separate him from the others? He wasn’t sure, but he did know that he’d needed to hear that affirmation since before he’d even begun his time among them.
He was different, Dumbledore had told him. The Headmaster had even tried to convince him once, when he’d been reporting on the mission:
“Remember what separates us from them, Remus,” Dumbledore had said in parting.
He paused at the door of his office, hand hovering over the handle. “What’s that?”
“Love. Show them that love can exist between us all."
He nodded. "I'll do my best."
"And Remus." The Headmaster waited until his former pupil faced him. "Never forget the abundance you have here.”
He was different from the ferals; Remus could acknowledge that. Whereas their separation from the Wizarding World was an act of hatred and rejection, his had been solely for protection and compassion, for those that loved and hated him alike.
His decision to accept should have never been based in dread and misplaced hurt, but the belief that he could make a difference in the war.
He'd been blinded by his own lacking sense of woth. And knowing all that, believing that, a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long while filled him: acceptance.
He would never be able to change what he was, but who he was - he had all the control in the world over that. If Tonks was willing to love him, he would love her to the best of his ability. And he would keep her safe, no matter what the cost.
Remus approached her again, gently lifting her chin when she wouldn’t look at him. “I don’t deserve you,” he said hoarsely, honestly.
Tears streamed down her cheeks, defeat registering in her eyes. “Remus,” she whispered desperately. “Please. It doesn’t matter what you do or do not deserve!”
He smiled softly, gently wiping away her tears with his thumbs. “Yes, you’re exactly right. But I don’t deserve you, all the same. In fact, I don’t think I deserve anything or anyone after my behaviour,” he said lightly.
She grasped onto his wrists, his hands still framing her cordiform face.
“But I won’t waste anymore time, Nymphadora. I’ve been a fool. I think you’re more stubborn than James and Sirius combined, and my logic could never match their wisdom when it came to our friendship.”
Her mouth hung slightly agape. “Does this mean…?”
“Yes,” he said quietly, resting his forehead against hers. “If you’ll have me, then yes. I am yours.”
The End
AN: Be brutal! It's a bit abrupt at the end... =|