A/N: So even though the Harry Potter series is my favorite series and are my favorite books in the whole wide world I've never written fanfic on them. Don't know why, I just haven't felt it - probably because I don't think there's any way I can do JKR's world justice. But, in my 20th reread (no joke) I was finally hit my some inspiration for my favorite couple, Lupin and Tonks.

So here is a series of short, kind of vague drabbles, all about them, because I love them so and their relationship is incredibly intense. As always, please read and review, I love to hear what you think.

This will be a four-part series of drabbles, so expect more ASAP. They're chronological and in very specific settings, many scenes from the book, and so I hope you can figure it out. I never mention their names outside of dialogue/thoughts on purpose, in case you were wondering, but I hope it's still clear who I'm talking about.

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling, not me.

i.

"Oh, Merlin's beard – damn it!"

Tumbling head over heels over the tiniest possible corner of upturned carpet, she was saved from a painful landing by the strong arms of a man she knew well, who grinned when she slammed into him. His arms were quite warm and steady around her.

"You can never be left alone for even a moment, can you?"

"Can it, Remus."

But, straightening, she hugged him briefly in thanks. Perhaps a moment late, he seemed to realize he was still holding her in his arms, and immediately he pulled away with a claim of some important task left unfinished. Alone in the drawing room, she watched sadly as his cloak whipped out of the room.

ii.

She bit her lip across the tiny table, where a miniature game of wizard chess had been set up. Scratching her head, she directed a knight near her opponent's king, which promptly threw down its crown and bowed shamefacedly.

"I win! Finally!"

"I let you have that one."

"No way! I fought for that!"

The careworn man only smiled and shrugged. As he stared around the dull, dusty room, his eyes fell on the large tapestry on the far wall, full of scripted names and small, circular black marks. The woman glanced at it too, her expression one of utmost distaste.

"I'm glad I'm not on that foul tree. I'd hang myself from its branches if I were."

"I'm certainly glad you're not, then. It'd be rather dull around here without you."

iii.

"Happy birthday, Remus!"

She held out a sloppily wrapped gift, grinning cheerily. With a somewhat sad smile, he took it and unwrapped it as she sat down in a nearby chair, her elbows resting on a rickety endtable, watching him eagerly. When all the sparkly paper at last fell away, a long, dark cloak flowed into his arms, thick and silken.

But the stitching was a mess: knotted and uneven, it wove along in zigzagging lines and in a few places, there was already a patch over some unintended hole. Stuck to one corner was a tiny note. He unfolded it and read nothing more than All my love, Tonks, with a small star sketched in one of the corners. The handwriting was slanted and messy, like a child's.

"I know you don't really need any more shabby cloaks… but I made it by hand! Needles and thread and all, no magic, after I bought the cloth! Sorry it was wrapped so terribly. I've never been able to do that well, magic or no."

He smiled at her. Slipping the warm cloak over his shoulders, he kept her note clutched carefully in his hand, hidden from her sharp eyes. Somehow, he could feel her presence in the cloak; it was warm and friendly on his tired shoulders.

"It's wonderful. Thanks so much, Tonks."

"No problem!"

He waited until she had bounced out of her seat, hugged him briefly, then left the room before he looked at the note in his hand again. He studied the tiny star doodled in the corner and the four small, insignificant, hastily scrawled words before placing the note gently in his pocket.

His eyes fell on the tall family tree when he looked up. Her name was blasted off, but there was still a date of birth underneath where her name would have been. December 2nd, 1973.

Thirteen long years seemed to separate him from the tapestry, though he was only a few paces away. Thirteen years, somehow growing longer and lonelier with every passing second.