How To Close A Love Letter: Part I
Title: How To Close A Love Letter
Author: scarlett71177
Rating & Warnings: PG
Prompts: Goblet & ‘I am good-looking enough for the both of us, I theenk’ (they’re in there- somewhere)
Word Count: Part I: 2482 (8,934 Total in 3 parts)
Summary: A correspondence brings Remus and Tonks closer. (Set after Chapter 29 of HBP.)
Author’s Notes: This is the second R/T piece I started- nearly two years ago. I just kept putting it aside to work on other pieces. I couldn’t have finished this without massive support, suggestions, and encouragement from margaret67 and thanks to shendricks2004 for the beta.
Remus Lupin paced the floor of number twelve Grimmauld Place, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, forcing his head to look down at the wooden floor. Albus Dumbledore was dead, Bill Weasley had been attacked by Fenrir Greyback, and Nymphadora Tonks had professed her love for him, for what he feared was the last time. It had been an emotional evening, and he rather thought he was in shock, unable to process what had transpired. After much consideration he realized that there was only one situation he had any control over, only one that he could do something about, only one that he could make into a positive circumstance- or at least he hoped he could.
He paced the hallway, knowing exactly where the floor squeaked under his weight, knowing how many steps he could take before the wall forced him to turn around, knowing how close he was to nearing desperation. His mind was reeling with possible situations and outcomes. His idea could backfire and leave him feeling even more despondent than he already did. He finally broke, rushing into the drawing room and taking a seat at the desk near the window. He lit the candle in front of him with a flick of his wand and a muttered incantation as he pulled open drawers, looking for parchment and a quill. He quickly located the stationary and looked out the window into the dark of night; it was well after midnight and the sun would be rising soon. Remus ran a hand through his greying-brown hair and stared down at the empty parchment. In spite of everything that had occurred this night, he smiled and dipped the nib of the quill into the black ink well in front of him. The candle light cast a friendly glow onto the paper as he scratched out the first words that came to him…
My Dearest Tonks,
All my life, since some of my earliest memories, I have faced changes and fears: the physical and emotional changes of becoming a werewolf every month, the fear that I may inadvertently hurt someone, and the fear I see in other’s eyes when they discover who- or rather what, I am.
I faced the facts very early on in my diseased childhood that those prejudices would never go away- never stop. I accepted, despite my ambitious nature, that I would face personal limitations- forced to play the game by the rules of Purebloods; I would always be second rate.
I was a believer in fate- negative fate; good things never happen to werewolves, after all. The bite was my fate: to live a lonely, solitary life, to serve my punishment all alone. Occasionally good moments or people came along- people like Dumbledore, but they were always replaced by something doubly negative, sad, or shameful. Therefore, I believed that good karma did not exist- and then I met you.
Nothing extraordinary happened for a while. I had trained myself not to take notice of the precise hue of your eyes, each time you changed your hair, your favourite colour, the way you took your tea. I vowed I would not hear the distinct timbre of your voice when you laughed or the cheerfulness when you greeted me with a ‘Wotcher’ which is so characteristically ‘you.’ Instead, I trained myself to imagine you flinching when you touched me, even you though you did not.
I did not realise soon enough that it was a lie; I had memorized every little thing about you, and then something else happened. I pretended, if only for a moment, that we could be together. What was I thinking? I could not, would not, fall in love with you- I was old, poor, and dangerous. I was not nearly good enough for you. Seeing you at number twelve every day was akin to torture. You were so beautifully colourful and I found myself aching to be near you. I wanted to have your joie de vivre, your confidence, your positive outlook on life. You began to haunt my dreams like a homeless wraith, visiting one grey thought after another, painting them a rainbow of colours. Sirius thought my stay at Grimmauld Place was merely to keep him company, the git. I guess I finally managed to pull one over on him. My visits to number twelve were always dual purpose. There was my friendship with Sirius, but then there was you, this bright little nymph colouring my gloomy world. The thought of going back to that old, lifeless existence terrified me, though not nearly as much as hurting you.
It was one thing to fool myself and let these thoughts play through my own head, but above everything, I knew I must appear nonchalant, even aloof to you. Friendly was fine, but I could not let you think, or know, for a moment that I was falling in love with you. Occasionally, moments of weakness showed through. I recall nights at Grimmauld Place, keeping Sirius pacified by recalling old times and drinking too much Firewhiskey, when I would catch your sparkling eyes reflected in the firelight. You and your cousin sat side by side across the table from me, listening with rapt attention (well, except for Sirius’ constant interjections) to the silly stories I had long pushed into the deepest recesses of my mind because their presence made it easier for me to feel sorry for myself, but those thoughts saved Sirius in Azkaban. Both of you sat on the rear legs of your chairs, throwing back your heads in hearty laughter, but truth be known, I was not watching your cousin.
I was letting you get to me, I was craving your presence in my life, and found myself making any excuse to be near you- it was getting too intense, too dangerous. I made up my mind that I should walk away before you realized what I felt, before one of us acted upon it, before I choked and came running back… before I could trip and fall head over heels in love with you.
I had become so used to hiding everything that I foolishly assumed you had no inkling about how I felt. Oh, I was so wrong. I wondered if you had Seer’s blood, or if I was just that obvious. I tried to pretend as if things were not changing between us. I would have been blind not to see that my constant focus on you was starting to affect you too. I tried to ignore your flirting, your coy attitude, and a lingering touch. I needed to step away, but the recent change between us had filled me with something I had not known for so many, many years- hope.
We had known each other only a year when it happened; there was a huge void that Sirius had once filled. He was gone, and things had changed for the Organisation that brought us together. Later that month Dumbledore approached me about going off to join the werewolves and facing one of my biggest fears- Fenrir Greyback. I had built my world around you for so many months now, and I saw these two occurrences as my way out, an excuse to turn my back on you. Nothing could continue past this point; if my world fell apart, it would be by my own doing and I could handle the pain. However, if I hurt you, and your world crumbled, I could not live with the guilt. The last time I saw you we said goodbye to Harry at King’s Cross station, and I went to join my equals. I was too much of a coward to say goodbye.
You told me once, twice, one-hundred, one-thousand times that you loved me, but each time I gave you the same excuse why we could not be together- I was too old, too poor, too dangerous; I knew you deserved better even if you claimed you didn’t want it. The thought of willingly distancing myself from you was cruel. I would just as soon watch you rip my heart out and do with it what you will, or let the Dementors suck my soul greedily from my body as opposed to leaving the possibility of something more- knowing you wanted something more.
My newly found ‘freedom’ of you did not appear to have lasted for long. Why? Because I could not do it-, I could not escape you. There was a physical distance between us, yes, one I imposed upon us. A part of me hoped it would work out, this separation, that you would just move on with your life and eventually I might move on with mine. However, this is where my plan failed miserably. You didn’t move on, and nor did I. I still thought about you every day. I was a prisoner of what we once had- even the faint, fleeting memory of it kept me chained to you, but I wasn’t about to let you know that.
If there was any reason for the two of us to come into contact, I would simply pretend you were not in the room, but inside I felt like I was betraying everything we once had. I’m sure you instantly recognized it was all a façade. You are too smart for my tricks. I hated the thought of leaving you and knowing I was partly responsible for your pallor, (Molly Weasley, of course, let me know each time I saw you, and Harry inadvertently told me at Christmas.)
Time wore on and our absence from each other was more extensive, but my dreams did not cease. Your beautiful smile, mischievous eyes, and pink tresses were never far from my mind. My imagination lulled me to sleep faster than any lullaby I’ve ever heard. Now, more than ever, I realized my resolve was breaking and the world I knew was miserable without your brightness…
And now, it has only been hours since Dumbledore has died. I can’t believe he’s gone, but McGonagall’s words still echo through my head Dumbledore would have loved knowing there was more love in the world. After your initial confession of affection more than one year ago, my resolve has finally broken. I can still see your little hands grasping the lapels of my robe, shaking me hard. I can still feel your breath upon my skin. I will never forget that look on your face when you left Hogwarts tonight. I did not think it polite to discuss our affairs in such a time and place. Nevertheless, I could not help but feel moved by your confession.
I wanted so badly to break right then and kiss you, to gather you up in my arms and press my lips to yours, to take you home. I wanted to be yours and yours only. Instead, I let you walk away- again.
I am through with tenacity; I am through with pushing you away for your own good. I’ve suffered enough, I have caused us to suffer enough, and I cannot bear to watch the manifestation of that rejection any longer. All of my pushing, protection, and separation did nothing but cause more pain. You, my beautiful Nymphadora, look as tortured as ever and I’ve wasted year’s worth of time between us. I give up.
I need you, I need you terribly. I don’t know if I can live another day without your tender caresses, a kiss to begin and end each day, and all the ‘I love you’s’ you’ve professed for more than a year.
I tried, oh how hard I tried, but I lost. I was defeated miserably. I cannot, will not deny my love for you one moment more. I do love you. I am not so bold as to think that you will, or should, come running to me. On the contrary, if you think that you could move on with your life- go. That payback would be what I deserve. If I can redeem myself in your eyes or your heart, please let me tell you in person that I need you, dream of you, and lose a piece of myself every time I leave you.
I pushed you away because I thought I could keep you safe; I never took your happiness into account, or respected you enough to let you make your own decisions. I pre-emptively pushed people away my whole life, because I could not bear the idea of getting close to them and losing them when they found out what I was. It took the events of tonight to put my existence in perspective. I trust you, Tonks, but there are obvious parts of my life that you will never know, parts of me that I must and always will hide from you. There are days I will be absent from you.
I will always be grateful for what you have brought to my life. When you smile, I smile, when you laugh, I laugh, and without knowing it, you have instilled a hope in me that everything just might be all right.
All my life I prayed for mercy, but little did I know that the angel heaven sent to me would gracefully tumble into my life with two left feet and pink hair, instead of wings and a halo. I have no idea what I’ve done to deserve your love; you should be with someone young, healthy, and energetic. Someone who could take care of you and give you all the things you deserve in this world; someone who does not have the capability of hurting you. Tonight you told me that you don’t care about those things, but you should. I have no idea how we will make this work, but I trust you implicitly.
There is so much I want to tell you: apologies, confessions, promises. You have told me one million times how you feel, and I am asking you to tell me once more - just so that you can hear me reply that I love you too.
Yours Sincerely,
Remus
~*~***~*~
Was the closing too personal? He debated it for only a moment, concluding that it was far past time for Tonks to know how he felt. With a heavy sigh Remus folded the letter and tucked it inside an envelope. He picked up the candle in front of him and tilted it over the envelope, dripping hot, burgundy wax onto the paper. He retrieved a stamp from the desk drawer and pressed it into the wax, sealing it closed. He pushed himself up from the chair and leaned over the envelope, hastily scribbling Nymphadora on the front. He grasped his cloak on the way out the door of number twelve Grimmauld Place, eagerly departing for Diagon Alley to post his letter to Nymphadora Tonks.
Author: scarlett71177
Rating & Warnings: PG
Prompts: Goblet & ‘I am good-looking enough for the both of us, I theenk’ (they’re in there- somewhere)
Word Count: Part I: 2482 (8,934 Total in 3 parts)
Summary: A correspondence brings Remus and Tonks closer. (Set after Chapter 29 of HBP.)
Author’s Notes: This is the second R/T piece I started- nearly two years ago. I just kept putting it aside to work on other pieces. I couldn’t have finished this without massive support, suggestions, and encouragement from margaret67 and thanks to shendricks2004 for the beta.
Remus Lupin paced the floor of number twelve Grimmauld Place, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, forcing his head to look down at the wooden floor. Albus Dumbledore was dead, Bill Weasley had been attacked by Fenrir Greyback, and Nymphadora Tonks had professed her love for him, for what he feared was the last time. It had been an emotional evening, and he rather thought he was in shock, unable to process what had transpired. After much consideration he realized that there was only one situation he had any control over, only one that he could do something about, only one that he could make into a positive circumstance- or at least he hoped he could.
He paced the hallway, knowing exactly where the floor squeaked under his weight, knowing how many steps he could take before the wall forced him to turn around, knowing how close he was to nearing desperation. His mind was reeling with possible situations and outcomes. His idea could backfire and leave him feeling even more despondent than he already did. He finally broke, rushing into the drawing room and taking a seat at the desk near the window. He lit the candle in front of him with a flick of his wand and a muttered incantation as he pulled open drawers, looking for parchment and a quill. He quickly located the stationary and looked out the window into the dark of night; it was well after midnight and the sun would be rising soon. Remus ran a hand through his greying-brown hair and stared down at the empty parchment. In spite of everything that had occurred this night, he smiled and dipped the nib of the quill into the black ink well in front of him. The candle light cast a friendly glow onto the paper as he scratched out the first words that came to him…
My Dearest Tonks,
All my life, since some of my earliest memories, I have faced changes and fears: the physical and emotional changes of becoming a werewolf every month, the fear that I may inadvertently hurt someone, and the fear I see in other’s eyes when they discover who- or rather what, I am.
I faced the facts very early on in my diseased childhood that those prejudices would never go away- never stop. I accepted, despite my ambitious nature, that I would face personal limitations- forced to play the game by the rules of Purebloods; I would always be second rate.
I was a believer in fate- negative fate; good things never happen to werewolves, after all. The bite was my fate: to live a lonely, solitary life, to serve my punishment all alone. Occasionally good moments or people came along- people like Dumbledore, but they were always replaced by something doubly negative, sad, or shameful. Therefore, I believed that good karma did not exist- and then I met you.
Nothing extraordinary happened for a while. I had trained myself not to take notice of the precise hue of your eyes, each time you changed your hair, your favourite colour, the way you took your tea. I vowed I would not hear the distinct timbre of your voice when you laughed or the cheerfulness when you greeted me with a ‘Wotcher’ which is so characteristically ‘you.’ Instead, I trained myself to imagine you flinching when you touched me, even you though you did not.
I did not realise soon enough that it was a lie; I had memorized every little thing about you, and then something else happened. I pretended, if only for a moment, that we could be together. What was I thinking? I could not, would not, fall in love with you- I was old, poor, and dangerous. I was not nearly good enough for you. Seeing you at number twelve every day was akin to torture. You were so beautifully colourful and I found myself aching to be near you. I wanted to have your joie de vivre, your confidence, your positive outlook on life. You began to haunt my dreams like a homeless wraith, visiting one grey thought after another, painting them a rainbow of colours. Sirius thought my stay at Grimmauld Place was merely to keep him company, the git. I guess I finally managed to pull one over on him. My visits to number twelve were always dual purpose. There was my friendship with Sirius, but then there was you, this bright little nymph colouring my gloomy world. The thought of going back to that old, lifeless existence terrified me, though not nearly as much as hurting you.
It was one thing to fool myself and let these thoughts play through my own head, but above everything, I knew I must appear nonchalant, even aloof to you. Friendly was fine, but I could not let you think, or know, for a moment that I was falling in love with you. Occasionally, moments of weakness showed through. I recall nights at Grimmauld Place, keeping Sirius pacified by recalling old times and drinking too much Firewhiskey, when I would catch your sparkling eyes reflected in the firelight. You and your cousin sat side by side across the table from me, listening with rapt attention (well, except for Sirius’ constant interjections) to the silly stories I had long pushed into the deepest recesses of my mind because their presence made it easier for me to feel sorry for myself, but those thoughts saved Sirius in Azkaban. Both of you sat on the rear legs of your chairs, throwing back your heads in hearty laughter, but truth be known, I was not watching your cousin.
I was letting you get to me, I was craving your presence in my life, and found myself making any excuse to be near you- it was getting too intense, too dangerous. I made up my mind that I should walk away before you realized what I felt, before one of us acted upon it, before I choked and came running back… before I could trip and fall head over heels in love with you.
I had become so used to hiding everything that I foolishly assumed you had no inkling about how I felt. Oh, I was so wrong. I wondered if you had Seer’s blood, or if I was just that obvious. I tried to pretend as if things were not changing between us. I would have been blind not to see that my constant focus on you was starting to affect you too. I tried to ignore your flirting, your coy attitude, and a lingering touch. I needed to step away, but the recent change between us had filled me with something I had not known for so many, many years- hope.
We had known each other only a year when it happened; there was a huge void that Sirius had once filled. He was gone, and things had changed for the Organisation that brought us together. Later that month Dumbledore approached me about going off to join the werewolves and facing one of my biggest fears- Fenrir Greyback. I had built my world around you for so many months now, and I saw these two occurrences as my way out, an excuse to turn my back on you. Nothing could continue past this point; if my world fell apart, it would be by my own doing and I could handle the pain. However, if I hurt you, and your world crumbled, I could not live with the guilt. The last time I saw you we said goodbye to Harry at King’s Cross station, and I went to join my equals. I was too much of a coward to say goodbye.
You told me once, twice, one-hundred, one-thousand times that you loved me, but each time I gave you the same excuse why we could not be together- I was too old, too poor, too dangerous; I knew you deserved better even if you claimed you didn’t want it. The thought of willingly distancing myself from you was cruel. I would just as soon watch you rip my heart out and do with it what you will, or let the Dementors suck my soul greedily from my body as opposed to leaving the possibility of something more- knowing you wanted something more.
My newly found ‘freedom’ of you did not appear to have lasted for long. Why? Because I could not do it-, I could not escape you. There was a physical distance between us, yes, one I imposed upon us. A part of me hoped it would work out, this separation, that you would just move on with your life and eventually I might move on with mine. However, this is where my plan failed miserably. You didn’t move on, and nor did I. I still thought about you every day. I was a prisoner of what we once had- even the faint, fleeting memory of it kept me chained to you, but I wasn’t about to let you know that.
If there was any reason for the two of us to come into contact, I would simply pretend you were not in the room, but inside I felt like I was betraying everything we once had. I’m sure you instantly recognized it was all a façade. You are too smart for my tricks. I hated the thought of leaving you and knowing I was partly responsible for your pallor, (Molly Weasley, of course, let me know each time I saw you, and Harry inadvertently told me at Christmas.)
Time wore on and our absence from each other was more extensive, but my dreams did not cease. Your beautiful smile, mischievous eyes, and pink tresses were never far from my mind. My imagination lulled me to sleep faster than any lullaby I’ve ever heard. Now, more than ever, I realized my resolve was breaking and the world I knew was miserable without your brightness…
And now, it has only been hours since Dumbledore has died. I can’t believe he’s gone, but McGonagall’s words still echo through my head Dumbledore would have loved knowing there was more love in the world. After your initial confession of affection more than one year ago, my resolve has finally broken. I can still see your little hands grasping the lapels of my robe, shaking me hard. I can still feel your breath upon my skin. I will never forget that look on your face when you left Hogwarts tonight. I did not think it polite to discuss our affairs in such a time and place. Nevertheless, I could not help but feel moved by your confession.
I wanted so badly to break right then and kiss you, to gather you up in my arms and press my lips to yours, to take you home. I wanted to be yours and yours only. Instead, I let you walk away- again.
I am through with tenacity; I am through with pushing you away for your own good. I’ve suffered enough, I have caused us to suffer enough, and I cannot bear to watch the manifestation of that rejection any longer. All of my pushing, protection, and separation did nothing but cause more pain. You, my beautiful Nymphadora, look as tortured as ever and I’ve wasted year’s worth of time between us. I give up.
I need you, I need you terribly. I don’t know if I can live another day without your tender caresses, a kiss to begin and end each day, and all the ‘I love you’s’ you’ve professed for more than a year.
I tried, oh how hard I tried, but I lost. I was defeated miserably. I cannot, will not deny my love for you one moment more. I do love you. I am not so bold as to think that you will, or should, come running to me. On the contrary, if you think that you could move on with your life- go. That payback would be what I deserve. If I can redeem myself in your eyes or your heart, please let me tell you in person that I need you, dream of you, and lose a piece of myself every time I leave you.
I pushed you away because I thought I could keep you safe; I never took your happiness into account, or respected you enough to let you make your own decisions. I pre-emptively pushed people away my whole life, because I could not bear the idea of getting close to them and losing them when they found out what I was. It took the events of tonight to put my existence in perspective. I trust you, Tonks, but there are obvious parts of my life that you will never know, parts of me that I must and always will hide from you. There are days I will be absent from you.
I will always be grateful for what you have brought to my life. When you smile, I smile, when you laugh, I laugh, and without knowing it, you have instilled a hope in me that everything just might be all right.
All my life I prayed for mercy, but little did I know that the angel heaven sent to me would gracefully tumble into my life with two left feet and pink hair, instead of wings and a halo. I have no idea what I’ve done to deserve your love; you should be with someone young, healthy, and energetic. Someone who could take care of you and give you all the things you deserve in this world; someone who does not have the capability of hurting you. Tonight you told me that you don’t care about those things, but you should. I have no idea how we will make this work, but I trust you implicitly.
There is so much I want to tell you: apologies, confessions, promises. You have told me one million times how you feel, and I am asking you to tell me once more - just so that you can hear me reply that I love you too.
Yours Sincerely,
Remus
~*~***~*~
Was the closing too personal? He debated it for only a moment, concluding that it was far past time for Tonks to know how he felt. With a heavy sigh Remus folded the letter and tucked it inside an envelope. He picked up the candle in front of him and tilted it over the envelope, dripping hot, burgundy wax onto the paper. He retrieved a stamp from the desk drawer and pressed it into the wax, sealing it closed. He pushed himself up from the chair and leaned over the envelope, hastily scribbling Nymphadora on the front. He grasped his cloak on the way out the door of number twelve Grimmauld Place, eagerly departing for Diagon Alley to post his letter to Nymphadora Tonks.