Title: In Sickness
Author:
MrsTaterRating: PG
Pairing: Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks
Summary: Remus at last gives in to Tonks' request to help him after the full moon. When it comes to her actually seeing him at his lowest, surrounded by signs of the beast he transformed into the previous night, it's more than he bargained for. What he's least prepared for is that Tonks doesn't fault the monster beyond his control -- only the man within it. Has he pushed her away for the last time, or is there still a chance to win her back?
This fic as been extensively revised. Please see the
new version.
In Sickness
The screech of metal against metal ripped Remus from sleep. He tried to open his eyes, but the lids were leaden. He was glad he could not open them; the light was painful enough with them shut. Why had someone opened the drapes? Did the person not realise he was trying to sleep? He dipped his head so that the blanket covered his face. Funny, it did not feel quite like the duvet.
Whoever had opened the curtains now crossed the room. Remus' temples throbbed with each footfall that made the floorboards creak and vibrate beneath him. Before he could process why he was aware of the floor, the treads abruptly stopped.
"Ew!" came a hoarse, feminine squeal, followed by a half-whispered, "Scourgify!"
Must be Molly. Honestly, did she have to clean now?
"Ow! Bloody bedpost!"
That didn't sound like Molly - and the fog in his brain lifted enough for him to recall that Molly had not lived at twelve Grimmauld since September. It was late November now. But if not Molly, then who-?
"Remus," she murmured, now close to his ear. A burning sensation in his shoulder told Remus she was lifting his arm and sliding a blanket - no, a sleeve - over it. Groaning, he opened his eyes and peered over the edge of the blanket. He met a pair of dark eyes shining from a blurry face, above them, a shock of pink hair.
"Wotcher," said Tonks.
As his vision focused on Tonks' pale, heart-shaped face, his heart stopped beating, and his blood turned to ice. Everything fell into place now. Last night had been full moon. Tonks was here to help him; he had finally - though still reluctantly - agreed to let her. He had fallen asleep on his bedroom floor, and she was putting his dressing gown on him because he had not done it himself.
"Oh God," Remus croaked, recoiling from her. "Tonks, don't look."
She let go of his arm and dressing gown as though they had burst into flame and turned her back to him. "Don't worry," she said brightly while he struggled to clothe himself, "I realised you were starkers before I actually saw anything. I levitated your dressing gown to cover you. Didn't even glance at you till you were covered." A playful, almost flirtatious, tone crept into her voice. "I was really tempted to check out your bum."
"Stay turned," Remus said hoarsely. He had got both arms into the sleeves, but he needed to sit up in order to close the garment around himself and tie the sash.
"I won't peek, I promise," she said, laughing a little. But when he pushed himself up on his hands and knees with a moan, all emotion but alarm fled her voice. "Remus, are you okay? Can I help-?"
With a grunt, Remus sat upon on his knees; the unpolished wood planks dug into his skin. After the exertion of pushing himself off the floor, his arms trembled.
"Here." Tonks pressed against his back. "Let me." Her arms snaked around his waist to tie the sash.
"I said I didn't need-"
"You grunted," said Tonks, deftly tying a knot. "Could've meant no, but I interpreted it as yes. You've got to work on being a clear communicator." She hugged his waist and kissed the back of his head.
For some reason, Remus found her affection annoying. "Considering a few hours ago I was howling at the moon, grunting is a very clear form of expression."
"For a Neanderthal," Tonks quipped - but she stiffened and promptly released him.
A twinge of chagrin gripped Remus' heart. She was being so kind, and he was acting like an ingrate. He started to apologise, but then she moved to kneel in front of him. Remus averted his eyes, his stomach twisting with mortification that his much-younger Auror girlfriend should see him in such a sorry state.
"Worse than you expected?" he asked in a pinched voice.
"Yes and no," said Tonks.
He gritted his teeth. She had imagined him like this?
"Is it always this bad?" she asked.
Remus shook his head, indignation rising as grey hair fell into his face.
He heard her deep inhale before she asked in a hushed tone, "Is it ever worse?"
Though part of him vigorously resisted letting her know he was, indeed, at rock bottom, he felt compelled to be honest. "Only without Wolfsbane."
Tonks made a small sound in her throat, but was otherwise silent for some time. Just as Remus thought he would suffocate if any more tension built, Tonks asked, "Speaking of your potion…Does it ever make you sick?"
Remus' head snapped up. "Why?"
Tonks' gaze darted to a corner, and she chewed her lip. "There was a little vomit on the floor."
Sucking in his breath with a hiss, Remus glanced where Tonks stared. Merlin - somehow in all the scenarios he had imagined of her caring for him after a full moon, he had never considered her having to clean up after him. How could he have forgotten that transformation frequently worked a number on his stomach? He never would have allowed her to be here if he had considered that possibility.
"Hey." Tonks caught his chin in her callused fingers and drew him to look at her. He didn't want to meet her dark eyes. He couldn't bear to see pity. But her steady gaze pulled him, and to his surprise, he found her smiling. "I did the best scourgify of my life," she said with a slight toss of her head. "I wish you'd seen."
"I wish you hadn't seen."
Tonks pressed her lips tightly together, as if holding back words. She did allow herself the faintest of eye rolls before saying, "Let's get you in bed then."
She stood swiftly - Remus envied her young, healthy joints that did not pop - and held out her hands to him. He reluctantly gripped them and, not able to somach the thought of her supporting him completely, exerted what little strength he had. His legs shook so that he lurched forward and clung to Tonks to keep from collapsing.
As Tonks slipped under the crook of his arm, balancing his weight, she asked, "D'you always sleep on the floor?"
"Usually I curl up on the bed so I will wake up there."
They took a halting step toward the old bed, and Remus' knees buckled. Tonks pressed her hand firmly against his chest to keep him upright. When he didn't think he could be more humiliated, she looked up at him in alarm. "You didn't fall out, did you?"
"I never went to bed," he said ruefully. He had fully intended to crawl into bed after transformation, in the hope of avoiding this and concealing the toll this moon had taken.
"Why not?" Her voice was strained with the effort of holding him.
"I couldn't sleep." He must have dropped instantly asleep as he lay on the floor. "I paced."
They had reached the bed. As Tonks eased Remus onto it, she regarded him with a furrowed brow. "Because you were worried about this morning?"
She knew him too well, and it compounded Remus' shame. He turned his head away from her and awaited her speech about how the after effects of a full moon couldn't change her feelings for him.
"Well," Tonks said cheerfully, "you can rest easily now. I'll draw the curtains. Sorry I woke you with all that light."
Remus' eyes followed her, and when she stepped around a bowl on the floor, which last night had held water, he said bitterly, "Mind the dog dish."
"Shut up!" Tonks whipped around and stood, livid at the foot of his bed. "Remus Lupin, if I ever hear you talk about yourself that way again, I swear I'll hex you."
It wasn't Tonks playing at being authoritative; she was truly vexed. The whites of her eyes had gone red, and she blinked several times. She was fighting tears. Remus thought he might be sick again as he had the sensation of the bed plummeting from beneath him, leaving him to freefall.
"It's not the bloody bowl that reflects poorly on you," Tonks' voice rose in an impassioned pitch as she stooped to retrieve the offending item, "it's the way you insult me!"
Her voice cracked, and Remus swallowed hard, his entire throat having become a tight knot. "I never-"
"So you had fur last night!" Tonks cried. "So you walked on all fours! So you lapped water out of a bowl! Who in bloody hell cares? I've seen Sirius do all those things, and he chooses it. You don't choose. None of it. And certainly none of it makes me think less of you." She was fairly shaking, and her hair seemed to be the only colourful thing about her; even it seemed somehow dull. "I'm insulted - really insulted - that after all this time, you could think it matters."
"I-"
"Do you want me or not, Remus?" She clutched the bowl so tightly her knuckles had turned white. "If you don't-"
"Of course I want you," Remus interrupted weakly. His head dropped back on the pillows, and he stared at the cracked ceiling plaster. He meant to follow with a "but", but Tonks spoke before he could continue.
"You've a funny way of showing it, running yourself down to push me away. If you don't want me, bloody say so. Stop using lycanthropy as an excuse and..." she ground out the words "...be a man."
For a moment there was silence. Then Remus raised his head and met Tonks' level gaze. "I wasn't a man last night. That's the point, Nymphadora."
"Don't call me Nymphadora!" The bowl shattered on the floor.
Her rapid, heavy breathing and his pounding heart were the loudest sounds Remus had ever heard - until Tonks whimpered, "I'm sorry."
"Tonks, I-"
Her face crumpled in on itself, and she dropped to her knees, out of sight beyond the tall bed. "Reparo," she muttered. "What kind of girlfriend am I, yelling at you the morning after a full moon? Of course you're out of sorts."
She sniffled and stood, but remained turned so Remus could not see her face. He did see her swipe at her eyes with the back of her hand. He wished he could Disapparate. He winced when she said, "Let me make you some hot chocolate."
Tonks stumbled around the bed to the nightstand. Her hands shook as she tore open the paper packet. She poured a little powdered cocoa onto the table as she tried to fill the mug. "So bloody clumsy," she muttered, holding the mug at the edge of the table and sweeping the spilt powder into it. Her nose was red, and she sniffled and blinked frequently.
"You still want to be with me?" The instant the words left his mouth, Remus wished he could take them back. He had hurt her. He had made her cry. He had no right to ask, no right to want.
Tonks tapped the kettle with her wand, and as it whistled, she gave a shaky laugh of exasperation. "I've told you a million times, you stupid git-"
"No," Remus said, "I mean after the way I treated you just now."
"Yeah. I do." Tonks filled the mug with boiling water, again sloshing it as she poured. "Well - not if you keep treating me like this."
Finally, Tonks had admitted there was something he could do that would make her leave him. In all the times Remus had told himself his lycanthropy would be their undoing and hurt her, hurt them both, he had never considered that it might affect the way he treated her. He could have died with shame to know he had insulted her - he, who had nothing but the utmost admiration for Tonks. He was a beast.
Yet she offered him a second chance. She believed he could do this right.
Against his rational mind screaming that he was selfish to accept that unmerited opportunity, Remus found himself reaching out his hand to her. "Never again. I'm so sorry, Tonks."
For a moment her face was a study, but then she pressed his hand. "Forgiven."
She moved back to stir the hot chocolate. She picked up the mug and started to hand it to Remus, only to set it down again. "I almost forgot." She drew from her pocket a small chocolate, unwrapped it, and dropped it into the hot drink - just as Remus had done one night at her flat, not finding the Muggle hot chocolate precisely to his taste.
It was that considerate attention to detail that silenced the voices telling Remus to let Tonks go, least the wolf hurt her more deeply than it already had. A witch like her would not come into his life again, and he certainly did not want her to leave without his ever having tried to make this arrangement work. And he could not deny, he had made no effort today, but had, as Tonks accused him, done everything possible to push her away.
But there was one thing he had to know. "Why?" he asked raspily. "Why do you want to do this?"
Tonks' face was the picture of incredulity. Yet somehow, her wide-eyed innocence made Remus feel the younger of the two. "You need someone to take care of you, don't you?"
"Yes."
"It should be the person closest to you - the person you trust most, shouldn't it?"
"Sirius-"
"-is your best mate," she said, sitting onto the edge of the bed, "but I'm your girlfriend."
She held him with her dark, shining eyes. She was so young, so full of hope. She had not been hurt - except by him, today. So much life lay before her. Remus could not deny she was exactly what he needed. But what did Tonks want with a run-down, wreck of a wizard like him?
"You've got an illness, Remus," she said patiently - and so to the point that Remus wondered if he had unintentionally voiced his thoughts. "If it was a cold, you'd let me bring you chicken soup and Pepper-up Potion, wouldn’t you?"
"Only if you weren't the one to make the soup," Remus teased without meaning to - but Tonks smiled faintly. With a sigh, he added, "A cold doesn't dictate what I am-"
"Neither does lycanthropy," Tonks argued, "unless you allow it - like you have today."
There had to be a counter argument, but Remus was too chagrined to think of one. "You should run for public office," he said. "You are quite the debater."
Tonks reached for the hot chocolate. "I think my hair and tripping up the steps to the debate platform might have adverse effects on my arguments."
Remus submitted to her holding the mug while he drank. Perhaps he could pretend she was just pampering him, and not doing this because he was physically incapable of doing for himself….The thick, warm liquid coursing through him distracted slightly from the uncomfortable feeling of dependency. "Mm."
"Best post-transformation hot chocolate ever?" Tonks asked.
Remus nodded, and Tonks shifted the mug to her other hand so she could slip an arm around his shoulders. Neither spoke for some time, and she traced gentle patterns on his arm with her fingertips while he drank drowsily.
"Chocolate makes dogs sick," said Tonks finally. "Wolves, too, I assume. If your chocolate addiction's not proof of how completely human you are, I don't know what is."
She laughed a little, but Remus had not missed the melancholy pitch of her voice, or, when he glanced up at her, the glitter of lingering tears in her eyes. Grovelling was in order. "My male ego, my pig-headed stubborn streak, and my propensity to be an utter prat?"
"Yes," Tonks said. "Those, too."
The End
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