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Sirius was dead, and there was no body to bury.
The last time his world had crumbled, the rest of the world had finally found its footing. But this time around, the rest of the world was crumbling with him.
It was with a tinge of guilt that Remus remembered the spark of gratitude that he had felt when Sirius had told him, frantically and a little madly, that Voldemort had risen from the realm of the clearly not dead enough.
His life had been a constant struggle for mere survival for so many years, it had been a thrill to be finally living.
Sure, teaching at Hogwarts had been a reprieve, but it had still been ever so lonely - the days winding out into isolated weeks, his last true friend hated by the world and stricken from his heart, surrounded by students who he loved to teach but who would cower away from him if they ever discovered his true nature. Most of them had.
The recalling of The Order of the Phoenix had come with another surprise for Remus; finally meeting his soulmate, who turned out to be the vibrant Nymphadora Tonks.
It had been sudden and unexcepted; heck, he wouldn't have even known what she was to him if Sirius hadn't been so diligent. The issue of his soulmate had been long ago pushed into the deep, unreachable trenches of his mind.
He, after the dreaded conversation of acknowledgement had passed, had strived to stay as far away from her as possible. But duties - endless patrols, missions, even evenings at Grimmauld where he couldn't escape her lest he incurs the Blacks' wrath - had forced him to spend time with her.
And, though it pained Remus greatly to admit it, she was a perfect person for him.
Confident and unafraid to be who she was in a world which was unbelievably cruel to those who dared to be different, loyal and kind without ever flinching to even the direst of cases, unbelievably caring and trustworthy, she had stolen his heart from its cage of jagged diamonds.
Remus wasn't rejecting fate because he didn't love his soulmate with all of the little which he had; it was the painfully obvious fact that Remus had no place as a romantic partner in anybody's life that prevented him from bowing his head to the words printed on his ankle.
None of this mattered, anyhow; soulmates could be soulmates and the love could be platonic, or, in some cases, the love unrequited. No one would ever love him like the poets relished waxing on about; like he was the person who had hung the dreaded moon and the beautiful stars which had adorned the night sky for eternity. He'd accepted that he would be alone forevermore the second he had heard of the notion.
Loving a monster was simply not possible; no matter how intelligent and kind they may be (and his friends, clearly mistaken, had believed he was).
So, with this in mind, Remus readily accepted Dumbledore's offer to integrate himself as a spy into Fenrir Greyback's pack. Sure, several Order members were friendly with him, including Tonks, but with his last true ties to the wizarding world cut - no matter how much his father pleaded, or however much Remus knew Lyall loved him, he refused to be a burden on his ageing father - there was simply no reason for him to attempt to pretend that he could ever fit in with anyone but his own kind.
Is that Sirius Black will forevermore be burned into his ankle - he couldn't bear to part with the words - but Tonks could always (and surely would) remove the words that tied her to his lonely soul as those with unsuitable soulmates often did.
The dictating hand of fate did not have the last say in his life; and if she loved him (in his dreams, where his father had never aggravated Fenrir Greyback or the man in question had not been so needlessly cruel in his revenge), she was young and beautiful; she could always move on. She could mingle with and date the others whose soulmates were nonexistent or abusive or simply unloveable, like him.
...
Being in love was terrifying.
Sure, it was also wonderful, lovely and all that jazz, but above all, being in love was terrifying.
Tonks hadn't planned on falling in love with her soulmate; sure, she had always hoped that she would in the idyllic daydreams in her youth, but it wasn't guaranteed. What if her soulmate was a total jackass?
Remus Lupin turned out to be the sweetest, most genuine man she had ever met.
He gave and gave without ever excepting anything in return - in fact, he was surprised when someone thanked him for his overflowing generosity, even more so when someone reciprocated in kind. He was also highly underappreciated. His intelligence definitely rivalled hers and nearly all of her coworkers; she distinctly remembered one night, one quiet night that she had managed to snatch in the hectic cycle of her life when he confessed that he had always wanted to be an Unspeakable; someone who researched the oddities of their universe to their heart's content. But because of something completely out of his control, their moronic society would never give him the opportunity.
Nor would they ever let him prise it from their cold, unforgiving fingers.
Nevermind his outstanding N.E.W.T scores; in a world where what you were was nearly always more important than who you were, personal achievements didn't matter much.
It was hard to pinpoint the moment that she had stopped thinking of Remus as the man that destiny had chosen out for her and the man that she personally wanted by her side for eternity.
She had agreed to wait and see if actual feelings spawned between the pair, and, now that they had (well, at least for her), she was faced with a looming, dooming task - confrontation.
Confessing to someone that you were in love with would never be an easy task except for the most narcissistic of individuals, but when that person was Remus Lupin, someone who's self-depreciating levels teetered at infinity, it came with the added fear of them simply not believing you.
Yet, sadly, in reality, Tonks had much bigger things to think and stress about. Her world was eventually waking up to the bloody war which surrounded and choked it and she was an Auror, someone who was forced to confront the world's ugly truths day after day. The things she had encountered in her line of work before the war - robberies and briberies and all sorts of hoodwinking - looked like innocent puppies to her now.
It had been a week since her cousin had died and a day since she had found out, the day she had finally stirred from her comatose state. Today she would be dashing to the old headquarters after work to collect her stuff, in a hurry in case, Bellatrix really did storm through its halls.
...
Remus was doing one final sweep of Grimmauld - well, technically it was the old headquarters, but it would always be Grimmauld to those who had been witness to Sirius' teen loath laden rants about his parents' home -, making sure that all sensitive information (and his own personal belongings) were picked up and taken far, far away.
He thought it unlikely that Grimmauld would go to Bellatrix - simply because, though they were overtly nosy in the business of the dead, the Ministry of Magic was decent enough to at least to carry out their last wishes.
He had visited Tonks tentatively several times after the battle at the Department of Mysteries; she had not been awake yesterday morning when he had last visited. Each time he had visited the horrible, gutting feeling of please wake up I want you to be okay but also please don't wake up because the world has fallen to pieces had accompanied him. Maybe it was ironic that the reason he did not yearn for his soulmate to stir from her coma was that he was afraid that the world would injure her further when she did.
He, as the unemployed (sparsely employed, Sirius had liked to say) person of the Order of the Phoenix, had been quite happy to gather the belongings of his acquaintances from Grimmauld. But he hadn't dared touch any of Tonks' belongings, especially because he hadn't been granted her consent (though her parents had told him they were sure she wouldn't mind, with a look in their eyes which spoke of a sadness that he didn't understand).
It felt too personal, like an intrusion; sure, a coffee mug, a scarf and the other miscellaneous items that she had left behind in her wake weren't overtly personal. But anything of hers was too personal for him.
Hopefully it would be easier for him to avoid her now, considering that the one person who he couldn't bear to avoid was now dead, and no one else (except Dumbledore, but that was out of a sense of loyalty and duty rather than love) could force him to spend more time with Tonks.
His impending mission as a spy among his own, more feral kind would cement the wall which he had tried to build between him and Tonks since the day they had met (well, ok, after Sirius had pulled him aside).
So as Tonks had as yet not woken, and no one else had any reason (or desire) to visit Grimmauld ever again, Remus could feel his guard slipping a little, his mask cracking at its thick edges.
Remus had been binding up the scrolls of notes from an April meeting - which had been tucked away, long forgotten, in a bottom drawer - when the front door creaked upon.
His wand was out in a flash. Remus crept towards the dining room's door, eyes narrowed, when there was a loud thump in the hallway accompanied by some very loud cursing.
Some very familiar cursing.
Remus pocketed his wand, his warrior self discarded but his emotional barricade slamming into full force.
The light globe above his head flickered as Tonks entered the room, clearly scanning for any of her wayward possessions.
"Remus!" Tonks said, looking pleasantly surprised. She bounded across the room and hugged him tightly and Remus felt himself instinctively stiffen at the physical contact. "Are you ok?"
The question had many implications: are you physically ok? Yes, though he was starting to feel weary due to the upcoming full moon. Are you emotionally ok after the death of your last friend in such a brutal fashion? No, never.
Still, he had gritted his teeth when everyone was essentially rejoicing the "sacrifices" of his dearly beloved friends. He could handle a simple "are you ok" inquiry, well-meant and surely not looking for the true, deep and biting answer.
He allowed himself to enjoy the hug a little. It hadn't really taken him by surprise: Tonks was known to be physically affectionate with her friends (which, shockingly, she had called him one on several occasions). Tonks was considerably shorter than him, the top of her head reaching his shoulder. She had gripped a fistful of his robes like she didn't want to lose anyone else.
Remus didn't take it personally. Sirius' death must be even fresher for her; of course, she didn't want to lose anyone else right now, even someone as insignificant in anyone's life as him.
So he smiled, and because he knew she couldn't see it, let it be genuine and warm. But she would be able to hear his tone and words. "I am fine," he replied carefully, "how are you, Nymphadora?"
Tonks pulled away to lightly punch his shoulder in response to the barb; as soon as she did, his smile had become instantly a hundred times more guarded. Remus occasionally called her Nymphadora in a fruitless effort to get her to dislike him due to her hatred for the name.
Needless to say, it had failed; she had taken it into her stride as a friendly tease.
Her hands left his robes as she sat down, tracing his sleeve absentmindedly as she gestured for him to do the same. "Tired," she said with a lopsided grin, "which is ironic, considering that I just spent six days in a coma."
Remus noticed distractedly that her pink hair was more muted than normal, her nonchalance and cheeriness more forced.
"How's work?"
"Depressing." Her hands had started to play with the cuff of her own navy blue robe, custom to those of the Aurors. Clearly, she had come here straight from work. "The rest of our world has finally woken up and noticed that we are at war by panicking."
Her smile thinned. "We had thirty alleged sightings of Voldemort today alone. I, as one of the youngest, got the pleasure of meeting a bunch of our esteemed frantic citizens. Unfortunately, all of them were pure baloney. Or perhaps, fortunately; we don't need anymore Voldemorts."
Remus' heart went out to her; someone who had to fight in a war because the previous generation had failed to truly win it. Then he responded, being careful to maintain the polite, purely war-centric conversation they were having. "That was awfully common last time, though at least we had a slightly more competent Ministry back then. Note that I said slightly. It was still a pretty chaotic world to live in and one where it was hard enough for James and Sirius to acquire jobs."
The self-pitying and impossible for me was left unsaid, but the implication of it was left hanging thickly in the air.
Tonks had clearly noticed it, sending him a sympathetic, concerned look before she replied. "Maybe I should send Voldemort a thank you note. Thank you, dear sir, for being kind enough to let me get a stable job before you unleashed hell in our world." She frowned, tugging hard at a particularly thick thread. "Too sarcastic?"
Remus sent her an are you kidding me? look. "It is concerning that you worry about if a letter addressed to Voldemort has too much of a sarcastic tone rather than the fact that the act itself is suicidal," he said, his own tone dry.
"Hm," she said. The cuff of her robe was definitely starting to fray. "Well, when you grow up with someone who took every opportunity to anger her fanatic, murderous sister, you learn to not care what homicidal maniacs think of you. Or what they may do to you; which is nothing, if they can't catch you. Or if they are locked up in Azkaban; seriously, they should have chosen more reliable guards."
"Tonks," Remus sighed wearily, "do not aggravate Voldemort, please."
"Fine. No letters to Voldemort. You're no fun," Tonks said, pouting. Then her dark eyes lit up. "D'you want to help me locate all of my stuff? Kingsley said you were becoming the retriever for the rest of the Order of the Phoenix. I apologize on behalf of those lazy asses that you had to rummage through this horrid place. However, it'd be swell if you'd help me locate my stuff. I ain't letting Bellatrix getting her paws on any of my stuff. Coming?" she said, offering her hand in what must be an instinctive urge to help anyone and everyone.
Remus pulled himself up, politely declining her offer with a shake of his head. "Sure. Just let me-" he cast a spell which searched for anything that had come here in the last year - it had been invented by an anti-hoarder, "finish checking this room," and as nothing glowed, his job here was done, "and I'm done. Where do you want to go first?"
...
Her poor left cuff had been suffering and unravelling under all of the nervous energy that was thrumming through her veins.
Sure, when she had tightened her resolve about finally confessing her feelings to Remus, it had been for a solid reason - we are at war, any one of us could die any day now - but she hadn't excepted that she would run into him so soon.
He, however, was currently very composed even though his last best friend had died last week.
And - as they entered the library, the last room which they were searching for anything left behind in the last year - Tonks could feel a kind of curtain closing over this area of their lives.
She had only left a scarf in here, a lilac flowy one, which was now slung carelessly over her shoulder, and no Order documents had been lingering behind here.
In an effort to prolong her time with Remus - for catching him in the first place was like trying to catch running water - she asked him a question, a curious and innocent question that dug out so much more grief than she would ever be prepared for.
"What are you doing in the upcoming weeks?' Tonks asked curiously, twirling her scarf around her fingers. "Myself I'll just be trying to - not even reduce, really - but contain the casualties, both literal and metaphorical, of this war."
And if Remus' mask had been up before, the facade he put between himself and the world in a vain effort to protect himself, literal concrete walls had now come in.
"I have been asked by Dumbledore to complete a mission," he said, and she could tell by his delicate, controlled tone that he was choosing his words wisely, "one which will take me a great many months if not longer to complete. I am afraid that I will be abroad for quite some time come mid-August; we still have to iron out the mission's technicalities and fully form my backstory, as it is not an easy one and must be handled with great care. There will be no second tries."
The wind had been stolen from her lungs. Was Remus going to be away for months? It sounded like quite a dangerous mission too.
"I will be joining Fenrir Greyback's pack as a spy," and all the energy drained out of Tonks at that, so much so that she had to lean against the ancient leather couch for support, "to both collect information on his pack but also in an effort to convert the other werewolves to our side or at the very least, to a neutral standpoint in this war."
Tonks blinked through the tears that were starting to gather in her eyes. "How can Dumbledore even ask you to complete such a risky mission?"
"I volunteered for it last time," Remus replied, clearly not concerned for his personal safety, "he told me that he didn't except me too, but it would be helpful to our cause. And who better suited to this mission in the order but me-"
"But you don't have to do it, Remus! Don't you see how suicidal this mission is - you know how vicious Fenrir Greyback is, he turned you as a four-year-old as a sick act of revenge on your father!"
"Well," said Remus, clearly taken aback by her outburst by the way his eyes widened in genuine surprise, "last time, it was with different, less volatile packs and I reported weekly instead of monthly like I will be this time to reduce the risk of getting caught and getting my associate in trouble. But there's no reason for me to be so cautious this time. There's no one left who'll care about my fate."
He said it matter-of-factly like he'd never considered anything different.
"I care, Remus," Tonks snapped; her cuff broke as she tore viciously at it in her anger, turning into a loose tangle of threads. "Ok? I don't want you to die."
He looked at her blankly, the bafflement clear in his eyes. "Why?" he asked.
Tonks could sense an impending headache. "Because I'm in love with you, you self-sacrificing idiot! OK? You do realise that soulmarks are the symbols of love to come, right?"
...
He had been blindsided; even more than the night that his three idiotic friends had told him that they were going to become animagi to help him.
How quickly Tonks had gotten worked up about his mission; which he had explained calmly, knowing and accepting his potential death when he was abroad on his mission. Well, more certain death - they were living in a war, after all.
He had been confused if not surprised about her horror concerning his, admittedly, suicidal mission. He knew that she didn't like anyone (excluding herself, of course) putting themselves in a life-threatening position.
Currently, a crippling silence was reigning the library as he struggled to absorb what she had just confessed to him.
In love with him? That was impossible.
So he opened his mouth and said kindly, "That's not possible, Tonks."
She stared back at him, her eyes red-rimmed. "I knew you would say this. I knew it. But I do. I do. But do you?"
"Of course I do," he replied casually; sure, his love had not been excepted but it was undeniable now that it had come. She deserved to at least know that the rejection was not because of any flaws she had, that it was not personal. "But you must know that a monster like me is unloveable."
"You're not unlovable," she said, repeating her mantra stubbornly. "Please, I love you, Remus. Please believe me."
Remus paced towards the door, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "It's just a phase; of course you want to be in love with your soulmate."
"It's not a phase-" Tonks snarled, lifting her head up to glare at him.
"I think it is. Now, when I am away, it'll die over. And you'll be much better for it."
"You can't decide what is good for me," Tonks said. "I'm an adult; I can make my own decisions about my own life."
"It'll be better for both of us," Remus continued, choosing to ignore Tonks' clearly deluded protests, "and I do love you; that is why I cannot allow you to be with me in any capacity and certainly not romantic. Goodbye, Tonks. I'll see you at the next meeting. Please do not seek me out in between."
It was a cold and calculated rebuttal. Still, it tore at Remus to shatter her resolve so thoroughly. She clearly (mistakenly) believed that she was in love with him. But it was truly for the best; better to root out a tumour before it could grow even more in scale and pain. For that was what any love for him was, really. Something that could only hurt the person who somehow harboured it.
He tried to ignore the fact that her hair had settled irreversibly into her natural, mousey brown when he swept out of the library. That it was a sign of immense sadness. But he couldn't; his heart prickled with guilt, but he firmly believed that it was better to not delay the inevitable. Tonks would thank him later.
...
Nevermore had she wished so desperately for the emotional pain to transform into the physical; for the physical was at least easily treatable. And it went away.
However, there was a war going on so she couldn't sit around and mope all day. Or hurt herself; that wouldn't solve anything and the world needed Aurors more than ever now. But she loved Remus Lupin, and she was never going to give up on him.
No matter what he falsely believed.