Chapter 25: The Stranger

"Auror Tonks! What are you - ? You're not supposed to be out of bed yet!"

A beaker of pearly liquid almost fell right out of Healer Frogly's hands where he stood, gaping, from the ward doorway. Tonks, balancing in her off-white St Mungo's gown with one hand on the bedstead, was testing her legs: wriggling her toes (working), jiggling a leg (working), bouncing her knees (hat trick). She'd be back to normal soon, she was sure of it. It was only that there was…something. A strange pain, nestled deep in her middle that seemed to flow, then ebb, then flow again at uneven intervals; spreading goosebumps across her skin in a chilly flush. Tonks breathed through it, refusing to wince. It was nothing she couldn't handle.

"Four days lying flat on my back is quite enough for me," she said.

"Yes, but you've only been conscious since this morning! You need rest. That curse almost killed you and since then you've undergone extensive - and, frankly, quite invasive - magical tests and healing processes. You can't be too careful. Healer Simpson recommended a full program of convalescence."

"I'm going to convalesce myself into a flobberworm at this rate. I have a job to get back to."

Healer Frogly raised his eyebrows so high they almost met the brown hair that curled at his temple.

"Your health is far more important than your work."

"It's not," said Tonks. "It's really not."

The healer was looking positively unsettled now. Tonks forced what she hoped was a winning smile in his direction.

"Besides, my owl has had free rein over my flat this entire time and, believe me, she's not to be trusted. She's probably turned the place into a boneyard by now, invited all her friends over for a little owly rave."

"You can make all the jokes you like but it won't change the fact of what's happened to you."

Tonks found herself without a retort as an unexpected flicker of memory made her cheeks glow. She thought of Nana Tonks' funeral wake and the way that her dad kept on cracking the same joke about the marmite sandwiches over and over again, like he couldn't help it, like it was the only thing standing between him and bursting into tears amongst the doilies and old sherry bottles.

"You may have the right to discharge yourself, but that doesn't mean you should," Healer Frogly went on. "This morning was extremely hard on you."

Tonks disliked the note of pity in his voice, but hated even more how it took her straight back to that morning. She had lain, propped floppily up by a pair of pillows and blinking in the dawn light as the odd trio of her parents and Mad Eye were let in to see her. The look on her mother's face was the first clue that something very bad had happened. Her immaculate features were pinched, the crow's feet at her eyes scored deeper and she gripped Tonks' dad's hand so tightly it looked as if her diamond ring was about to draw blood. There was something other than maternal worry and the ravages of sleepless nights in her expression and Tonks noticed it instantly: a woundedness, a reproachfulness that was almost accusatory.

Fighting drowsiness, Tonks had blurted out a series of demands for information before they'd even sat down. It was Mad Eye, in all his no-frills, battle-hardened rasp, who told her everything: that Bellatrix Lestrange had defeated Tonks in a duel which culminated in a near-fatal curse to the abdomen and a bone-fracturing tumble; that Dumbledore had arrived soon after, turning the tide of the battle and arresting a horde of Death Eaters; that Bellatrix Lestrange had not surrendered; that Sirius took a stunner to the chest and fell backwards through an archway; that Sirius was dead, dead, dead and Tonks, though she started to rage and deny and rip at the sheets that held her, couldn't make him alive again. The world had exploded into nonsense because Sirius, the cousin she had discovered in a blaze of rapport, the friend who shared her blood, Sirius was supposed to live forever. He was supposed to share so much more with her than just one short year. Tonks' body had quaked, every sob a knife to her abdomen, and she scrunched the sheets up to her eyes to block out the room and saw instead the cavernous hall shot through with jets of light, felt instead the lagging of her body's reactions and smelt the metallic burn of curses that meant her skull was about to split against stone. The last thing she saw as she fought the devouring waves of sleep cast straight to her temple by Healer Frogly, was pity in each of Mad Eye's mismatched eyes.

"Why don't you sit down?" Said Healer Frogly, back in the present, watching her carefully. "Really, you've been through something awful."

On Tonks' bedside table sat a gigantic cluster of pink and purple flowers. She noticed, for the first time, that there were daffodils buried in amongst them. Their fluted heads were compressed, as if trying to hide, but they were still the brightest, most unmistakeable, yellow. She reached in and stroked one of the petals.

"Not as awful as some," she murmured.

She seized the stripy backpack her parents had left for her and rifled through it until she found a mirror. She made efficient work on her face - brightening shadows, de-chapping lips - before adding spikes to her pillow-flattened hair. It took only a few seconds for her reflection to change into what she wanted to see: a brave face.

"The best way for me to heal is to get back on my feet," she said, snapping the mirror shut.

Whatever medically appropriate response Healer Frogly may have been about to offer was replaced by the sound of a familiar wooden thud that grew louder, until -

"Back on your feet? Good."

Mad Eye always knew how to make an entrance. For his second visit to the ward that day he was wearing a dust-lined bowler hat. The brim was pulled down low on one side, but Tonks could still see a little of the whizzing eyeball beneath.

"I've returned to see whether you might be fit enough for an excursion."

"Fit as a fiddle," Tonks said, ignoring her healer's splutters. "Where to?"

Mad Eye didn't reply, but inclined his grizzled grey head a little to one side. It took Healer Frogly a few seconds to realize he was being sized up.

"Oh for goodness sake!" He cried. "I'm looking out for Auror Tonks' physical and mental wellbeing - I'm not some sort of…spy!"

"Chill, Mad Eye," said Tonks, stuffing her 'get well soon' cards into her bag by the handful. "Frogly's alright."

"Can't be too careful," said Mad Eye.

It took Healer Frogly's whole body to deliver a sigh capable of communicating the precise scale of his disapproval.

"If you're leaving, then you might as well leave properly," he said, accepting defeat and patting his robes. "Where are my discharge notes? Don't go anywhere! I'll be right back."

He hurried off, eyeing the two of them like a harried parent. Tonks could have sworn she heard him mutter "aurors!" under his breath. Mad Eye slammed the door shut and sealed it with at least five more silencing charms than strictly necessary.

"Dumbledore suggested we all meet the Potter boy at Kings Cross. A little morale boost might go a long way to stop him from doing something damn stupid this summer. I don't like the sound of these Dursleys. If they can't treat the boy right, they're trouble."

"No one whose house is that clean can be trusted. Who else is coming?"

"At least four of the Weasleys. Kingsley. Lupin - if he's back from his meeting with Dumbledore."

Tonks' heart started to race. She shrunk down her flowers and carefully buttoned them up into a pocket on her backpack.

"I've already done a security check of the platform perimeter. Apparently the Ministry are stationing some Aurors in muggle clothing at the station, but stay vigilant: the Death Eaters won't have taken their latest defeat lightly. They'll be looking to make a statement soon enough."

Though Tonks nodded with confidence, she felt a little dizzy. She had woken smack bang into a new reality. The Daily Prophet they'd given her over the lunch she hadn't eaten told her of open warfare. Which meant no more secret life, no more separation between her Auror and Order selves. Healer Frogly, frazzled from the battle to get past Mad Eye's door charms, interrupted her reverie with a clinking box of potions.

"Three potions, to be taken at the top of every hour," he said. "Now listen carefully because I'm going to talk you through each one…"

Tonks sat down and nodded as obediently as she could, accepting each colourful glass bottle in turn and tucking them into her bag - from which Mad Eye promptly extracted them one-by-one for inspection. Nervous energy churned Tonks' stomach: she had to get out of this building, she had to start training again, she had to see Remus. She couldn't wait any longer.

"…I've written every instruction down for you on this piece of parchment so whatever you do, don't lose it. Over the next week or so, you need to take care. That means no apparition, no floo-ing, no flying above thirty miles per hour, no heavy drinking and no, absolutely no, duelling."

"Yep, sure, okay."

"And you mustn't forget that Healer Simpson had to perform a complete magical strip on you. So if you had any long-acting charms in place, they'll have stopped working. Do you understand?"

"Yeah, yeah, that's all totally fine. I get it," said Tonks, jumping to her feet and ignoring the sickening slide of pain the fast movement caused. "I'm gonna get changed."

In the small circular bathroom attached to the ward, Tonks pulled her sack-like hospital nighty over her head - then did a double take at the mirror. At the base of her ribs was a jagged scar: a huge, grey smudge. At the sight of it, Tonks' breaths became ragged. She morphed the mark away in a panicked rush, but it didn't stop the tears, hot and stinging, from leaping to her eyes and staining her cheeks. She leant on the sink, bit down hard on her fist and willed the shaking to pass. When she felt almost ordinary again, she dressed in the old jeans and t-shirt her parents had left her. Before leaving the bathroom, she morphed the whites of her eyes whiter and deflated the puff of her cheeks, restoring her brave face.

—

Tonks' body felt stiff as she and Mad Eye, fresh from a particularly swerve-happy journey by black cab, approached the bustling brown-bricked arches of Kings Cross station. They made slow progress given Mad Eye's insistence upon subtly - and, sometimes, not so subtly - analysing every passer-by for a concealed wand. Someone bashed Tonks' shoulder rushing for the next train to Doncaster. She sucked in air between her teeth and considered vaguely that she was probably due another potion or three. But Mad Eye's next words, as they drew closer to the barrier between platforms nine and ten, sent any thought of her own discomfort barrelling into the path of the nearest fast-moving train.

"Lupin's already here, look."

Tonks gazed wildly around, not seeing him at first through the passing blurs of navy business suits and suitcase-laden tourists. But then, there he was. She saw him. He was standing, upright and alone, at a slight distance from the barrier, half-illuminated by the sunlight streaming down from the high glass ceiling. He was wearing a long overcoat. His cheeks looked hollowed out.

Lost, she thought. He looks so lost.

Tonks burst into a painful run, half-tripping over a wheelie bag, to reach him.

"I'm here, I'm here," she said breathlessly.

He turned. His eyes looked larger in his face than they ever had before.

"Tonks," he said, somehow as breathless as she. "How long have you been awake?"

"Since dawn…sort of…"

She wished she was hugging him. She wished she was burrowing inside his old coat. But something was stopping her.

"They wanted to keep me in, but I couldn't stand just lying there. Mad Eye told me everyone was coming here for Harry, to give his aunt and uncle what for, and… I couldn't not come."

"I didn't think I'd be seeing you," he said, as if to himself.

Tonks stared up at him. He was changed. Grief seemed to cling to every inch of him.

"I see you weren't going to let a little thing like a coma get in your way," said a low baritone.

Kingsley put a hand on her shoulder.

"Oh Tonks! We were so worried about you!"

Mrs Weasley joined them and, thankfully, refrained from her usual tight hug and kissed Tonks on the cheek instead.

"I hope you got our card," she said, a sad twinkle in her brown eyes. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, honestly. No lasting damage. I was lucky."

As soon as the words left her, Tonks felt sick. She had been lucky. She'd taken all the luck for herself and Sirius had been left with none. The whole group was gathered at the platform now, but all Tonks could think of was the gaping hole at its centre. Trying and failing to fake a chuckle at whatever it was Fred and George were saying, Tonks turned, wanting Remus. Their eyes met, but he cast his head down towards the floor in the same instant.

"Ah, here come the first few!" Arthur announced, as a trickle of teenagers laden with owl cages and parcel-wrapped broomsticks began to emerge, melding into the muggle crowds. "Let's keep an eye out for ours."

Tonks set her grin in place.

—

"So, I'll see you Monday? Or even earlier if you need me? Things must be crazy at the Ministry right now!"

Tonks had to shout to be heard over the traffic outside the station. Kingsley frowned.

"That's far too soon. You've been signed off for a fortnight," he said.

"That's ages! Surely the department can't afford to be a single Auror down given everything that's going on?"

"Give it a week and we'll talk again," said Kingsley, still looking unconvinced. "I don't want you to return too early and put yourself in danger because of it. Take it easy, okay? You had us all scared that night."

Tonks flushed. Kingsley made his goodbyes, leaving just she and Remus on the pavement.

"Kingsley's right. Shall I take you back to St Mungo's?"

Remus spoke so softly it was difficult to hear him over the roar of the road. Tonks stepped closer to him, close enough to touch, overcome with relief that they were alone.

"No, no, I don't need Healers, I swear. The only thing I need is to be in my own bed with a cuppa - and no one makes them quite like you. Why don't you come back to mine?"

Remus closed his eyes and raised one hand slowly to the back of his head. He didn't answer.

"We can talk properly there," Tonks said. "And…talking would be good."

Why were they standing on the street like this - awkward and apart, like they'd never even met?

"Please?" She heard herself say.

"Alright…erm…let me carry that for you."

"What? Oh…"

Tonks surrendered her backpack and Remus took it, gripping the top with one hand. Tonks had no muggle money for a taxi and asking Remus was out of the question, so she stuck out her wand arm. The Knight Bus was packed and roiling, but Remus somehow managed to squeeze her through the mass of bodies - without so much as brushing her clothing - to sit her down on the back row. He stood, close enough that she could feel his watchfulness, but too far away for her to speak to him easily. Though the bus was humid with rising body sweat and the low sun blared through the dirty windows, Tonks felt her skin prickle with goosebumps. She leant her forehead on the pole and wished the journey away. Minutes felt like hours.

Out in the street, Tonks didn't quite make it through the front door of her building, slumping sideways against the flaking paint of the frame.

"What is it? Let me help you," Remus said quickly.

"I just…need my…next round've potions…S'three every hour. Think I missed a dose…"

She reached out her arms, expecting him to support her, but instead felt her feet leaving the ground. She'd become weightless.

"I'm sorry, it…it will be less painful this way," he said.

"Dignity is overrated, I s'pose…"

Tonks watched the purple doors of her neighbours pass her by as she floated up the stairs, Remus treading silently behind her. Inside, he swept away what looked like sparrow bones off her sofa, before setting her down with impossible gentleness. Tonks drew her knees up to her chest. The pain felt like it was eating her up. There was a flutter of wings and a cinching of claws on the arm-rest and she immediately prepared to receive a cross nip on the ear, but none came. A single tear wriggled out from beneath Tonks' eyelashes and was absorbed into the patchwork blanket beneath her cheek. Somewhere in the kitchen, behind the sofa, she could hear the clinking of bottles followed by the low murmur of Remus' voice. Then she heard a much closer noise, three taps of glass on wood.

"Tonks…"

She opened her eyes. Remus was kneeling between the sofa and the coffee table, upon which he had lined up three small vials of liquid.

"The blue first," he said. "Followed by the green, followed by the translucent. These are hourly potions so, yes, I think you must have missed a dose when you were at the station."

"Cheers."

She struggled into a sitting position then necked each bottle in turn. The first was warm, the second was cold, the third was as prickly as a sea urchin - but the speed at which the pain vanished was like a revelation.

"This is why you're a useful man to have around," she said. "I'd probably end up taking 'em all backwards and turning myself into a marmoset or something."

She looked up, smiling, but he was gone. She craned her neck to see him back in the kitchen, organising her potion bottles into some sort of system. There was a sad stoop to his shoulders and more grey in his hair than she remembered. She went to him.

"Don't bother with those. Come on, you need to eat."

She opened her food cupboard - a bottle of lager; a jar of jam lined with white fuzz; a cheese that ponged something shocking - and quickly closed it again.

"You need to take care of yourself, Tonks," said Remus.

"We need to take care of each other," she corrected him. "I'm feeling way better so it's my turn to look after you. I could pop down the road to pick something up. What do you fancy? My dad's always been a big believer in the healing powers of potato."

"Don't go to the trouble. Please. I'm fine," he said, still arranging the bottles.

"You're not fine," she said. "Neither of us are."

She rested her head against his back; relishing the warmth and smell of him, feeling the sharpness of his shoulder blades through the coat he was still wearing.

"Let's just lie down together then," she whispered. "We can talk if you like - or we don't have to talk at all. We can just…be."

She wanted so badly to press her forehead against his and entwine their limbs together on the mattress. She wanted to listen to him, to cry with him, to give him whatever he needed. She rose on her tiptoes and leant to one side, putting her chin on his shoulder to see his face in profile. His expression was blank. Gradually, he pulled his arms in close towards himself and inched away, peeling himself out of her embrace.

"What is it?" She asked, arms hanging empty at her side.

He stood, thin and distant, like a stranger in her kitchen.

"I can't stay."

"Why not?"

"I think perhaps you should sit down."

She stood her ground. At first she was wide-eyed, staring at him in confusion, but then it hit her. She knew exactly what he was going to say. She braced herself, but she wasn't afraid. Let the final bricks in the wall that divided them fall. Let her prove to him why his heart, shattered and grieving as it must now be, deserved to be free.

"If you're about to deliver a monologue on all the many, many ways you think you're unworthy of me, don't."

"I have to do what's right."

"What's right is that we're together. I've never let you mess things up before and I'm not going to now."

"This is my decision to make."

"Remus," she said, responding to his coldness with all the warmth she could muster. "You're grieving, you - "

"This has nothing to do with Sirius," he cut across her, flatly. "I don't wish to speak of him. I've known what I need to do for a long time, but I've been too weak to act on it."

"You've got everything all upside down. You need me and I need you. Now more than ever."

"No. The facts are the facts, Tonks. I'm - "

"A werewolf! With no money and more than a decade on me, yes. Spare me the speech - I've heard it all before. I'm intimately acquainted with all those insecurities that you let run amok in your brain so I know that not one of them is a real, proper reason for us not to be together. You can hit me with the 'facts', as you call them, but they've never bothered me and they never will."

Tonks spoke so rapidly as to make interruption impossible: she had a plan, she just needed him to listen.

"Things are about to go completely mental all around us, I know. As soon as I'm back in my Auror uniform, they'll have me patrolling all over the country, guarding buildings, people, everything - full wartime alert stuff. But every little pocket of time we can grab, we can spend together. You'll stay here with me or I'll stay at your place with you. We'll spin vinyl, drink wine, talk and talk in that way we do which makes time sort of…stop and accelerate, both at once, and we'll sleep next to each other, trade stories with one another, walk the moors together like you said we would. Imagine it. Nothing scary. Just us. Being ourselves."

"Fantasies," said Remus. "They're just fantasies."

"They're not! They don't have to be!"

"Think of your life without me."

"Sounds fucking boring. Sounds lonely. I've met you now - I can't go back to un-meeting you."

"Of course you can. It's been barely a year. Just think of everything you could do without the burden of - "

"You're not a burden on me!"

"Please listen. There is no conceivable future for us. That vision you described might sound lovely, and maybe you would even enjoy it for a short time, but what would come next? All that sacrifice, all that danger, for a dead-end. There would be no possibility of marriage or - "

"Marriage?" Tonks repeated. "I've actually never seen myself as the marrying type."

"It's only one example," said Remus, quickly, the slightest hint of colour rising in his pallid cheeks. "There are countless other things a life with me would deny you - "

"All those vows, all that foreverness. I always figured life was too short - why shackle yourself to someone? I never saw the point."

"Be that as it may, it - "

"Until now," she said, raising her voice. "Truth is, I'd marry you in a heartbeat."

That was when Remus' mask of blank impassivity slipped. Just for a moment.

"You…you…feel this way because you're young," he said, blinking and pressing his lips together to stop the tremble. "Because you haven't had enough experience."

"Don't talk to me like I'm some naive kid. We're both adults. And neither of us have ever experienced anything like this before. We're as bloody clueless as each other."

She tried to smile at him, but it seemed to make him withdraw into himself even more, so she stopped.

"When I was hit...when I was being rushed through St Mungo's...it felt like I was dying, like I was being sucked down into something...but then I heard your voice. You were talking to me, calling me back. It gave me strength to fight - like kicking against a current."

"That strength was already yours. All I did was apparate you to the hospital - any other member of the Order could have done the same. You need to be realistic. You can't have someone like me close to you; bringing darkness and blight into your life, draining you."

"Don't talk about yourself like that. You're my favourite person in the whole fucking world. Even when you're being a self-effacing prat, even when you're alone and naked and about to lose your mind at the full moon, even when you're standing in my kitchen like some ghost version of yourself telling me that we can't be together - my favourite person."

"If you knew me," Remus said, his voice low and urgent. "If you really knew me and what I was capable of, you wouldn't think that way. I know that you don't wish for me to repeat words I've spoken to you before, so I'll try to phrase things differently. I've lived a far longer life than you have and it's damaged me in ways you can't understand. I'm not able to get a job which means that I'm barely self-sufficient. There is a monster living inside me that could kill you without remorse. And there's something else…."

But Tonks had closed her eyes. She needed to focus on a happy memory if she was going to prove to him that she truly didn't care about any of it.

"I need to tell you that I'm - "

"Expecto patronum!"

The silver wolf sprang from her wand in a flying cascade of pale fire. It soared to the ceiling, circling them both, before galloping a graceful figure-of-eight around the room, its light illuminating every corner, its fur streaming like water, making the early evening sunlight seem dull. It was beautiful.

"Get rid of it," said Remus, between his teeth, with a venom that made his voice almost unrecognisable.

"I think it's gorgeous," she said.

"It's disgusting. I don't want to look at it."

The wolf coiled its silvery trail around her ankles and settled at her feet, facing Remus with the white orbs of its pupil-less eyes. She let it fade.

"It used to be your rabbit," he said, swallowing. "I remember it - how spirited it was, how joyful. Now it's gone."

"Maybe not," she said, feeling every pulse in her body hammering. "You never conjure a corporeal patronus, do you? What if you thought of your happy memory right this second and said the words? Maybe we'd see my jack rabbit bouncing around the living room. Maybe that's how it works!"

"My patronus would never change. It's impossible. The wolf will never leave me and now you…oh god…"

Remus put a hand over his eyes. Though his pain cut her, Tonks was still ablaze with exhilaration. They were reaching the truth and the truth would make him happy in the end, she knew it would. She was ready to give him everything.

"It's not a bad thing!" She said. "Look, you're the one who's meant to be the expert, but…well I reckon I know what it all means."

She felt as if she was standing in high winds on the peak of a mountain.

"I love you."

His hand slipped down from his face and their eyes met properly for the first time that day. The silence felt weightless and heavy all at once. Her abdomen was starting to pang again and there were tears in her eyes, but she beamed at him.

"I get more fucking in love with you everyday."

Remus' body heaved a little. A slight shake of his head became vigorous and he started pacing, like there was something inside him he couldn't contain, compelling him to move. He made no sound, but his lips formed the same word over and over again: no.

"Yes," she said - and it was an enormous yes, a yes that had to be big enough to convince him.

"I love you," she said it again because it felt so good and because she now knew that she must have said it silently in her heart a thousand times without realising it.

"I'm leaving," he said.

She heard and yet didn't hear.

"What?"

"I'm leaving. I've been assigned undercover work for the Order."

She had no words with which to reply. The floor no longer felt solid.

"I spoke with Dumbledore this morning," he continued, a terrible woodenness returning to his features. "You'll remember from the Order meeting held back in March that the werewolf threat is rising. I've been asked to infiltrate the camp that Greyback and his followers have been building up as a funnel to Voldemort's army. I'm going to live there and send intelligence back to Dumbledore."

"Greypack," Tonks whispered. "But he'll recognise you…won't he?"

"Why should he? We've never met. I'll be in disguise, working under a different name."

"But…" Tonks bit her lip, shock manifesting itself as a tingle in her limbs, words bubbling up like stomach acid. "Have you even had time to prepare? Undercover ops need serious preparation. You - you can't get away with only a fake name and some self-transfiguration - you're not me, you'll never be able to perfectly transform yourself. And the looks are only the half of it! You're going to have to act convincingly like someone willing to transform and kill on purpose. But…how? How will you be able to fool people that you're the complete opposite to what you are? And if they…if they figure it out…"

"If they discover my real identity, they will kill me."

"It's a suicide mission. Dumbledore is sending you on a suicide mission."

"Dumbledore trusts in my ability to act my part convincingly," he said, colder than ever. "You know what could happen if werewolves joined Voldemort's side. There could be targeted infections. Mass attacks on the public. And if they were ever endowed with enough funds to buy wolfsbane ingredients, all hell would be set loose. Dumbledore has asked me to do this. I would never refuse him. You understand duty, Tonks. I know you do."

"I can be your Order contact," she said, desperate to reassert control. "We'll set up a secret line of communication between us so we can speak and I can get you straight out of there if there's trouble."

"It's too dangerous to have regular communication with the outside. Only Dumbledore knows the camp location and that's the way it will stay."

"You can let me know that you're safe at least! It would be easy - a protean charm on something inconspicuous that you could keep on you at all times - we'd each have one."

Remus was unmoved.

"Is this place some kind of prison?" She demanded. "Do you have to stay there constantly?"

"I'll be able to leave. Sometimes."

"So we'll see each other then," Tonks said, seizing on the word. "I'll be there for you every time you come out."

"No. You need a clean, total separation. That's clear to me," Remus' eyes traced the now-invisible path that the soaring wolf had taken. "I will not leave the camp for any occasion I know you'll be present at."

Tonks could only choke out an unintelligible gasp until she found the words.

"You - you'd seriously make it more dangerous for yourself just to avoid seeing me?"

Remus didn't reply. He didn't need to. He'd trapped her and they both knew it. The only sound in the apartment was the distant wail of a siren. When Tonks managed to speak again, her voice sounded tiny with defeat.

"When?"

"Today."

She held onto the kitchen counter. She felt like she might vomit. The spot where Bellatrix had left her mark throbbed. A horrible, gut-sinking clarity settled on Tonks.

"Is it..." her voice cracked. "Is it because it was my fault? Is that why you want to leave me?"

"What?"

"It was just like you said…I was lucky before…"

Tonks could barely get the words out now, tears were falling freely, hiccups were catching in her throat.

"I was s-stupid, I was so fucking stupid. You tried to warn me ages ago, but I thought I could take her, I thought I could take her and I wasn't good enough."

Remus understood what she meant now and a deep crease had appeared between his brows: he looked aghast, the mask cast aside.

"Stop talking like this, Tonks no - "

"Sirius would be alive, if I'd - if I'd been able to - "

"You mustn't ever think that, do you understand me?"

"It was my fault, my - "

"No!"

Remus held her by the shoulders - suddenly himself again, no longer the stranger - but she couldn't look back into his face. Shame wracked her and now she welcomed the judders of pain as they came in waves.

"None of us could have defeated Bellatrix Lestrange. None of us. Not me, not you, not Kingsley, not Sirius. Don't you ever, ever blame yourself."

"But if I'd been better - "

"No. Promise me. Promise me you'll stop thinking this way. It will swallow you up otherwise. Listen to me, none of this is your fault. None of this is your fault."

Minutes went by, but Tonks had no concept of the time passing: there was only him, telling her to breathe, and her, trying to.

"You need to look ahead now," Remus said quietly, when she was still again. "You need to live the life you're supposed to - "

"What does that mean?"

"The world is open to you. You're so young, but you're imbued with dazzling talent. You'll achieve great things. Amazing things. Without me. Only without me - "

"That's so bloody stupid," she whispered, his words stoking her.

"It isn't. It isn't stupid. Tonks, you have to understand. One day, you'll be thankful. One day, you'll look back at this conversation and you'll know that I was right."

"No, I bloody won't," she said, feeling the will to fight take shape inside her again, like a second spine. "I don't want some tick-box life, I don't want normal," - she put her hands to his waist and bent her head forward so that her forehead touched his cheek - "I want you, I want you, you complete idiot."

The touch of her skin against his made Remus jerk back and he dropped his hands from her shoulders as if only just realising they had been there, but Tonks was faster; catching a fistful of each coat sleeve. They were locked in a bizarre jostle, he attempting to withdraw but unwilling to pull away with force, her fingers tightening on him, her nails wedging into the fabric: two bodies that once melded together with startling grace and passion, now jarring, at war.

"Let me go," he said.

The coldness was an act, Tonks knew it, and it made the fire inside her blaze.

"You're running off and dumping me and you have the cheek to claim it's for my own good? Look me in the face and tell me that you don't love me!"

He stared back at her with hollow eyes, the sinew in his neck taut.

"Tell me!"

"I can't love you!"

He tore himself from her grasp, making her stumble, and backed away into the table which screeched against the floor.

"I don't."

Tonks steeled herself. If she let herself feel it, she'd crumble.

"You're going to have to get better at lying than that if you're going undercover," she said, with ice in her voice. "You think being cruel to me will work? You think treating me like some pet you're trying to get rid of will make me give up on you? Look at yourself! This isn't you!"

"Look at yourself," he said. "This isn't you either. Why are you trying to throw yourself away on me? Don't you know you're worth so much more than this?"

"I'm sick of your empty compliments," she snapped over him. "You can patronise me and insist on holding me up on some ridiculous pedestal all you want, but I know what's underneath - you want me. And I know you want me because you've proved it - right here in this very kitchen. So stop being such a fucking hypocrite!"

Remus flinched. She couldn't stand it; she couldn't stand his erasure; his forcing her into some howling archetype.

"Sirius wanted us to be together," she said, throwing the words at him.

"Sirius was wrong!"

"NO HE WASN'T! How can you even say that? You're not being brave or noble or whatever it is you're trying to be by pushing me away, all you're doing is proving how absolutely terrified you are. YOU'LL DIE PRETENDING TO BE SOMETHING YOU DESPISE BECAUSE YOU DON'T HAVE THE COURAGE TO BE YOURSELF. BECAUSE YOU'D RATHER GET YOURSELF KILLED THAN BE WITH ME!"

She was out of breath. The hard surfaces of the kitchen seemed to ring. Remus' eyes were closed. His face was turned up to the ceiling. She saw a tear slide to his cheekbone and fall down onto his chest.

"Just give us a little more time," she whispered.

"I'm so sorry, Tonks," he said, even quieter.

"It's - it's okay," she said. "I…um…"

She raked at her hair and blew upwards at her hot face.

"Everything's going to be okay," she managed. "I'm sorry too. I'm really sorry. Let's just...look, we're both in a total state, probably still in shock, missing him horribly. We can't have a sensible conversation like this. We should sit down and…I'll put the kettle on…and we can talk."

She looked around, opening a cupboard at random and closing it again. This couldn't be the end. They weren't words of bitterness, or furious accusations or cold goodbyes; they were flying colours across the night sky, they were extraordinary. This couldn't be the end.

"You don't have to leave yet. We have time. We can work everything out."

"I will regret hurting you for the rest of my life," he said. "But your pain will pass. You're going to be fine without me. You're going to be magnificent."

Tonks saw the wand, too late.

"NO!"

She lunged, her thigh striking the back of a chair, and reached for him.

"Don't!"

But her shout was drowned out by the crack, loud as a thunderclap. Her hands caught only empty air.

…

Tonks didn't feel the change - not at first. It was only when her hair lengthened and its thin strands, the colour of weak tea, tickled her neck and she clapped a hand there, that she became aware of what was happening to her. By then, the scar below her sternum had already emerged like a rain cloud on her skin; the shadows of exhaustion and injury retook their place around her eyes; countless tiny bodily tweaks (the mole erased at thirteen; the lashes so dark and curled; the tiny interlaced initials hidden on the inside of her forefinger), all replaced with some unfamiliar original version.

She slid to the floor. She didn't really know what else to do.

When the setting sun burnt red behind her eyelids, she drew her wand and pointed it in no particular direction. A needle rose. It travelled a couple of inches and then descended down to touch, with a short crackling buzz, the spinning disc that had been waiting for it. The music began to play.

— End —

A/N

So…I'm a little in shock.

Firstly, THANK YOU SO MUCH to everyone who has read, followed, favourited or reviewed Flying Colours. Your support has made me smile time and time again, your feedback has encouraged me to keep trying to improve and your general loveliness has kept me motivated through many a late night editing session. I published the first chapter of this story on the 14th of July 2018. I never would have thought that, just over a year later, I'd have written over 100,000 words or that, despite some dramatic ups and downs both personally and professionally, writing would have become a constant and inextricable part of my life.

It might be not perfect, but I'm proud of it. If you've got this far, I would absolutely love to know what you thought so please do write a little review if you get the chance.

Though it's super sad to have to leave Remus and Tonks at their absolute lowest, I always knew I was going to end the first part of their story here. But what should I write next?! Argh the freedom!

All the love,

T xxx