Okays, so here's a new fic :O shock horror! It's a Lupin/Tonks fic- aww- and it starts before they were together when they were arguing and stuff, just after Sirius died. Hope you like! R&R (:

"Honestly, truthfully, you must understand this, Dora, you really must. Listen to me, now. Do you understand?"

He takes hold of my shoulders and shakes me hard. I cherish the touch, but not the force, and so I still refuse to look him in the eye.

"Do you understand, Dora?" he shook harder, "this is the truth, the undeniable truth! Look at me!"

Instead I look away into the corner of the room, trying to look dejected, bored, even. He drops my shoulders as if they're aflame.

"Dora! I- I wish I could drum some sense into you! You're just as stubborn as James or- or…" his face crumples in pain, but I take this guiltily as my chance.

"Sirius and James- as stubborn as I am! You admit it yourself! They were your closest friends, and you frequently remind me that I and they have similar attributes! And yet- you allowed them to become close to you! Why not I, Remus? What is it that they have that I do not, which bought your affection and loyalty? Tell me, Remus!"

He opened his mouth, but faltered, as I'd hoped. Maybe this time I would win the argument. Maybe never.

"You fail to speak because there is nothing so dissimilar! And so why am I not permitted to be close to you?"

"I didn't say you are not permitted, I would never say that. If you had listened, I was about to tell you why it was unadvisable…"

"Go on then. I'd like to hear this reason that causes me so much grief!"

Remus' pallor whitens, and it looks as if he's choking on his own words. "It's unethical," he says softly, bitterness engrained in his voice, "I'm a savage monster- you're a young girl! We would never- never be accepted into the modern society in which we live! You'd be shunned throughout the world, as am I! I am poor, poor beyond belief, because of the lack of job opportunities, because of what I am! Your salary alone would not benefit us. I am old- far older than you- it would be wiser for you to stay away- no- trust me, Dora! It is not that I don't want to become closer- I am thinking purely of your benefit and your benefit alone! Trust me, please!"

"How can I trust you when I am not allowed to be close to you?"

"Oh I'm sure you'll manage, Dora! Find someone young, care-free. You don't want to be tied down to someone like me-"

"But that's exactly what I do want!"

"Listen! Listen, Dora! You need someone young and whole to lift the troubles from your shoulders- not burden you with their own! You'd be better off without me, trust me."

"I'm not so sure of that," I say defiantly, through my tear-clogged throat.

He takes one of my hands gingerly and encloses it in both of his.

"You'll just have to trust me, it's not much compensation, I know, but when this is all over and you've found someone else, you'll be glad I've distanced us. Trust me," he says softly, with a slight, pained smile, releasing my hand too quickly, and suddenly, quite suddenly, he's gone.

How can I trust him? I sink to the floor, knowing in my heart lies the answer, mocking me. I trust him; trust him with my own, pitiful life, for no greater or better reason, than the fact that I love him.

I sit for a while, reflecting, but then get to my feet. I turn on the spot with my wand out, ready for the sickly, squeezing feeling. I don't care where I'm going- I just want to get out.

I'm mildly surprised when I stumble forwards into Grimmauld Place. I walk quickly across the square to get inside, and when I do get inside I do my utmost not to trip over the umbrella stand.

Maybe I'm too clumsy for him, I think angrily as I lift myself up after falling flat on my face from trying too hard not to fall.

I slam the curtains around my great aunt shut and look around myself. Not much has change here since, since, well- I know it belongs to Harry now.

It seems as if I'm alone here, and a simple spell proves I'm right. Now I'm here, I don't know what to do. I'm supposed to be at the Weasley's for dinner, but somehow- somehow it seems to feel right here. I've never explored the whole house, my mother having being banished from here before my own birth.

I come to a stop at the staircase and hesitate before climbing it. I know which room I want to see, but I'm unsure or not whether it would be indecent. My curiosity overwhelms me, and lighting my wand, I begin to ascend the stairs.

I had never been in his room before- I don't think many could say they had. It was very grand, but Sirius, being the rebellious kind of guy, had tried his hardest to make it not so, I could tell. Gryffindor hangings littered the walls and everywhere there were photographs and posters. One picture in particular caught my eye, at eye-level on the wall. I stepped up to it, four young men were laughing back at me. I recognized Remus immediately, young and care-free. I wondered if he'd have wanted me then.

Sirius was grinning out of the picture too, happier than I'd ever seen him, his arm thrown around a dark haired, bespectacled man who looked so much like Harry it could only be his father. Different eyes, though- Harry's must belong to his mother.

The other man must be Pettigrew, then, the traitor who had framed Sirius, betrayed James and lied to Remus.

I turn away, a tear rolling down my cheek, and another picture catches my eye. A gloomy looking woman stares back at me. With a jolt I realised it is not a picture, but a mirror.

My hair is limp and mouse coloured, hanging to my shoulders, just the way I hate it. My face is blotched red with tears and my shoulders droop. I look a mess. I scrunch up my face and think of the way I want to be, closing my eyes. I concentrate really hard on the younger looking, bright haired, happy me I used to be. I open my eyes expectantly and close them instantly again as I see my appearance has not changed.

After several more unsuccessful tries, I slump backwards onto Sirius' unmade bed. Then I realise this was where Sirius last slept, and I fall forwards onto the floor. I lay there, numb. The emerald rug is comforting somehow.

Suddenly I remember my promise to Molly, and I flick my wand, non-verbally producing my patronus. I get a shock when a large silver form erupts out of my wand, and watch it prowl around me. I like the feel of its comfort, but its shape? Not only my metamorphosing has been affected, I see.

Nevertheless, I stand up to say aloud my message.

"Can't make dinner, too busy, sorry. Trust me, I am ok. Thanks, Molly."

I laugh at myself over using Remus' own overused phrase, and send my patronus on, watching the werewolf skulk away into the darkness.