A/N: After DH, my disappointment led me here in a limb of denial, where I am basking in the awesome theory I made up and explained in this story. It will be a multichapter, but yet I don't how long exactly it will be. If you, like me, refuse to accept Remus' and Tonks' unfair and so undeserved deaths, then this is the story for you. It could fit in the book quite easily, so you might grasp at this hope and place it right between the final battle and the 19 Years Later. What would you get? Below is the answer.

So many dreams were broken and so much was sacrificed
Was it worth the ones we loved and had to leave behind?

(Within Temptation, Hand of Sorrow)

Everything seemed to be under a spell, buried under a heavy blanket of silence and stillness. There were vague, muffled sounds all around, weak dream-like voices coming from indiscernible sources, and it was cold, a coldness that felt worse than ice. It was a coldness that felt like death.

Remus wondered why he could not move a muscle, tried several times to open his eyes, injecting all the little strength he still had in his body in the attempt, but everything was in vain.

He couldn't remember where he was, what had happened, nor why he was like imprisoned in a paralysed coat that wouldn't obey his brain's commands.

The one thing he was aware of was the peculiar peacefulness surrounding him, the lack of any pain, either physical or emotional. He basked in this complete sense of unawareness for he didn't know how long, unable to perceive anything but the blinding whiteness in his mind.

Suddenly a scary thought crept into his head and gave him a strong feeling, violent and fierce, that he managed to classify as fear.

Am I dead?

It was the only plausible explanation. But who was he? And why was he dead?

As he struggled to unbury lost memories from the dark depths of his soul, a voice surfaced from the confused tangle of emotions he was seeking through. A gentle, funnily indignated voice.

"Don't call me Nymphadora, Remus… It's Tonks."

Remus. He was Remus. Remus John Lupin, born on the 10th of May, 1960. But who was Tonks? Whom did that sweet, feminine voice belong to?

He tried to concentrate.

A pair of deep dark eyes stared at him smiling, almost teasingly, from a young and beautiful heart-shaped pale face. Short, vivid pink hair. A smile. A bright, loving smile. Then tears, the same heart-shaped face scrawny and shaded by a deep sadness, no smile. Greyish brown hair, lank, gloomy. Was it the same girl he was seeing?

Nymphadora…

She was important, he knew she was… Very important… If only he would manage to recover something from this oblivion he seemed to have fallen in.

"I don't care! I've told you a million times…"

He had hurt her, and although he didn't know how, he felt like a million thorns were digging into his heart.

His heart.

He couldn't tell whether it was beating or not, if he was breathing, but he didn't care. He wanted – needed – to recall who Nymphadora Tonks was.

"I love you, Mr Lupin."

"I love you, too, Mrs Lupin."

His wife. Nymphadora Tonks was his wife. But there was a ringing bell telling him there was more to this, that something was wrong with her being his wife…

He felt his love for this girl spread all inside him like a warm wave of light, but an unbearable pain came along. Pain. Why pain? He loved her, she loved him…

"What's wrong with you?"

Concern.

"Don't make me say this, Remus. You don't want to hear."

"Tonks… Please…"

Fear. Tears in her bloodshot eyes. Shivers.

"I'm pregnant."

Anger.

Disappointment.

Blankness, then a sudden awareness.

I'm a werewolf.

Grief.

Guiltiness.

Fear, again.

Teddy.

He had a son, a baby son. Where was he? And where was Nymphadora? He had a huge hole in his memory, he wanted to remember, but the more he tried, the less he could find.

Bellatrix… Greyback… Two green flashes of light from opposite directions, his body and Nymphadora's in the middle.

I shielded her from Bellatrix's curse, she shielded me from Grayback's… And then what happened?

Nothing but emptiness, nothing but senseless, unfocused images and incomprehensible, remote whispers.

If I'm dead, she must be, too.

More grief.

He felt like crying, but his feelings were not connected to his body, whose perception was only something he thought he once had had, but which couldn't quite remember.

He felt lost, lost and hopeless, even if he couldn't spot what exactly hope was. A good thing, perhaps… No, definitely.

He had fought, he had struggled against masked people with black cloaks. Death Eaters, dark wizards, Voldemort's army. He and Nymphadora had duelled with Bellatrix and Greyback, back to back, until the end, until the two Unforgivable Curses had hit them at the same time. They had both died to protect each other from death.

If I'm dead, why isn't this over? Why do I feel, why do I remember? Wasn't this supposed to be the end?

Lights and shadows were one only thing, sounds and silence melted into a unique droning litany out of his mind, out of everything. Wherever he was, whatever had happened to him, there was something outside.

He tried again to move, to force his eyes open, but nothing happened. But if he was dead, if he didn't have a body anymore, that made sense, after all. So that was what being dead felt like? He was going to relive his life over and over, regretting his mistakes, missing the wonderful things he had unexpectedly found on his way?

I don't want to be dead… My life has just begun… My wife, my son… I can't be dead.

"They're dead."

"They look so peaceful…"

Cries, sobs, sniffles. Where was it all coming from?

"Oh, Fred!"

Molly. Molly Prewett Weasley… Who's this woman? I feel like I know her… And Fred, too.

"Oh, no, zat eez 'orrible… Remus, Tonks… I can't believe eet…"

A known French accent, a girl, doubtlessly, and she was weeping, her voice cracked. He knew her, too.

"What will it be of little Teddy?"

Molly, again.

And Teddy… My beloved little boy…

Where were all the people he heard? He knew them, he knew he did. He just couldn't… remember…

"Mom," A boy's voice, broken as well. George's voice. "They look different from – from, Fred. They – they look so serene… Looks like they're just – just asleep."

A pause of silence. Someone was touching his face. The gentle, unmistakable touch of a woman.

I feel it… Why do I feel it? I'm dead, I shouldn't be feeling it…

"You don't theenk – I mean, I saw zem being 'eet by two Avada Kedavra in ze same moment, defending one anozer… Eef – eef it was… Maybe?"

His hand was lifted by another, a firm grip, though shaky. The hand of a man.

"He feels – he feels warm, Mum."

Bill… This is Bill. What's going on? Why do I hear them, feel their touches?

"Tonks feels warm, as well." Said Fleur, hesitation trembling through her words.

Tonks! Tonks is here! I need to see her, I need to know what's been of her… Tonks – Nymphadora – my Nymphadora… My wife.

"F – Fred feels cold… Very cold." Cried Molly, sobbing heavily. "And his – his face looks pained."

"Professor," Bill spoke feebly. "Do you – do you think it could really be –?"

"I don't know, Bill. I've never seen in person, never – I'd heard of this – taught for years, but – honestly didn't believe – a legend –"

Minerva McGonagall, my Transfiguration teacher in school… We've been colleagues for one year, I remember. What are they talking about? And Fred… Is young Fred dead, too?

"If there is a hope – any hope, for either of them – or both – what can we do?" asked Bill tentatively, almost desperately.

"I don't know how to awake them." Said professor McGonagall faintly. "Alastor could have – he surely would have managed – but I can't, I don't know…"

Remus could hear everything, feel their movements around him, but could not possibly communicate with them. He didn't know what was happening, he was suddenly scared and worried. What was this hope they were all talking about?

They say I feel warm – that Nymphadora feels warm… Death is not supposed to feel warm. But, still, I can't move, nor see, nor utter a word. If this isn't death, then what is it?

"I know Albus had a book about this – about Somnus Kedavra – and how to reverse it…" said Minerva's stuttering, throaty voice.

"We 'ave to try!" stated Fleur's determined voice. "We 'ave notheeng to lose."

Remus couldn't understand; he wanted to scream, to writhe, to shout, he wanted to know… But all he could do – all his state allowed him – was to just grasp at that unknown hope, and wait.

TBC

A/N: First chapter over. I hope you liked it and will leave a review to fuel my eagerness to continue. Every review will be rewarded with Chocolate Frogs and a kiss from your fave HP character! ; )