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Kiwi · 10-28-2006, 05:43 PM

A One-Shot Tonks/Lupin fanfiction.

Angsty, but romantic. Take the time to read and review.

The moral of the story: Seize opportunities before they rot away.

Stale Chocolate

Seldom do I have a chance to have a fresh beginning, to meet someone new and discover who he or she is over time. Close acquaintances come to me either by blood or at a great cost. I am often alone. I am feared. And my entire life has been on a basis of prejudice.

Whenever the ivory orb was high in the sky, casting its luminescent glow on the world, I was thrashing around. I snarled and sniffed for blood or for a throat to tear open, or for somebody to infect. Those beady black eyes sought everyone, and no individuals were deciphered in my usurped mind. I would have bitten James if he had crossed my path.

And when my father died and then my mother, I knew I was alone in this world. I was desolate and unloved, roaming the streets for work to occupy my time. I would exclude my infliction from resumes. I was hired for my intelligence and friendliness. But mysteriously I would take a few days off each month. My alibi was sickness each time, but the excuses ran out. And I was fired once my secret was out. The Werewolf Code of Conduct and the legislation (much of it advocated by none other than Dolores Umbridge) made work scarce for me. The repetition of the cycle of getting hired then fired soon sent me spiraling in a cyclone of failure. My clothing became tattered and my hair grayed from my adversities.

I have learned to not depend on anything too heavily, for one who lives a life like mine has nothing secure. Once people see me for what I really am, they cower in my wake. They fear for their children and loved ones, and they want me gone. But they do not know me.

I’ve learned to not get too close to anybody, for then I may lose them. They think that it is nothing that I am a werewolf, but it is everything. I surround myself in a globe of solitude. I am not unfriendly to those who offer sympathy or who seek my advice. I do not push away those who come to me. But I do not go to anyone unless I must. The few I consider friends can be as unkind to me as they like and get by with a lot of things, because of my desperation for friendship. Therefore, having too many relationships is harmful to me.

Of course, there was one exception.

I did not know why the vibrant young lady intrigued me so much. When I first met her, her handshake was firm and her glittering eyes smiled directly into mine. She didn’t eye my robes and prematurely lined face like the others did. Her welcome was boisterous and was so contagious I felt my bosom swell with joy.

“The name’s Tonks!” Before I could offer a reply, she turned when Kingsley Shacklebolt had to ask her something, and tripped over her own feet. She laughed in a booming way as I hastily extended my hand to help her up. My own cheeks were pink for embarrassment for her. Her soft hand fit inside mine as I pulled her up. Her cheeks were as red as mine as she said, “Great first impression, eh? I’m a clumsy one… have to get used to that.”

I did get used to it, but never to her limitless friendliness. We spent many evenings with a cup of coffee each and stories and lengthy conversations and countless jokes. When I told her I was a werewolf, she was interested and had many questions, but not scared. I enjoyed her company greatly, and considered her a friend sooner than with most. She seemed to genuinely care about me, which was a concept that I found hard to grasp at first. To think that this beautiful young woman cared about a monster was a concept saved for the fairy tales, but certainly not my reality.

I was with her the night we got the urgent call to go to the Ministry of Magic. We fought the Death Eaters with each other in mind. By then we were good friends, having had a few lengthy conversations. I was starting to see her as the person she really was — funny, cunning, and interesting. She had her flaws, too. The most obvious one was that she was clumsy, which came from a lack of confidence that she hid. She underestimated herself immensely. But she could change her appearance at will, and inside she was consistent. Fifteen years between us, but it seemed there were more. She was so vibrant, handling things with the carelessness of a teenager. I cared too much.

She was injured that night. Oh, how the fear seized my heart. All the nights when the moon was nearly full and my heart was pounding fear through my blood, and her injuries scared me more. That summer I came by St. Mungo’s weekly. I thought about her everyday. I denied that it was more than merely caring for a friend, and that is why I had to confine myself to visit sparingly. She healed well enough, but some of her youth seemed to be drained. She was never the same after that night.

And thus the beast of war was launched at us at full speed. Nobody could be trusted in the hurricane of betrayal, confusion, and chaos. I found myself drawing closer to her, letting the basking warmth of her optimism engulf me. In the times of tribulation, she was my surety.

Our conversations became deeper. I knew we were at a point where we were close friends. You see, can tell how close a friend is by the silences. For when there is a pause of silence in a conversation with a very dear friend, it is not awkward or uncomfortable. You feel at ease and as comfortable as if you were talking about your dream vacation. On those days when I came back to report information about the werewolves, I would have tea or coffee with her and we’d talk for hours. I always brought a treat with me for her, thanking her for letting me in her flat. We both shared the love for chocolate. I tried to bring different kinds with me and we’d try it together. It became a tradition with each visit.

The second time I came back, I did not bring chocolate. I hadn’t had the time to search for something new, and I had absolutely no money. I hadn’t eaten properly in weeks. I was not in the best of moods, which was unfortunate, given the circumstances.

“I love you,” she said. Those words rung in my ears and made my stomach swoop. I wanted to be happy and reply that I loved her too, but the back of my brain argued heavily. It would be selfish of me to burden her. She was young and naïve. She did not know what she was getting into. I left hastily, making up an excuse that I had to speak with the Order.

The next time I visited her, I hoped she had moved on and had forgotten what she had said. But she was far from forgetting. Her hair was a dull brown and lusterless. There were circles under her dark eyes. She was pale and appeared to not have seen the light of the sun for days. There were dirty dishes scattered around her flat. She was dressed in her pajamas and seemed surprised I had come. She tried to clean up, but ending up breaking a pile of dishes.

I quickly repaired the shattered plates and assisted her in putting them in her sink, which was full of dirty plates and cups and utensils. Her flat was usually untidy, but this was evidence she had stopped caring for herself properly.

I knew I was the source of such a mess. I cleaned her dishes for her as she sat at the table and stared at my back. When her kitchen was spotless, I made some of her favorite coffee with a touch of cream, caramel, and sugar.

We went to the living room and brushed lightly on things that had happened in the past month. There was a notable gap between us on her squishy couch that was gnawing at both of us as we tensely talked.

She looked up at me, her face as sickly and placid as my own.

“Remus,” she said quietly. “I… what happened last time…”

I stared at her. I did not want to talk about it, even though it was the leech sucking the blood from me. When there was a long silence from my refusal to answer, I decided to be the one to budge. I had to throw the brick-laden burden from my sore back.

“When you said you loved me,” I stated in what I hoped was an indifferent voice.

“Yeah,” she said, looking at her hands. Those soft hands were so clumsy and gentle at the same time. “Well, I still do.”

I simply blinked as she looked up at me. There were tears in her eyes. My throat felt scratchy at causing her such pain. Why couldn’t she see that she was being unreasonable?

“You’ve been talking to Molly about it,” I brought up. “She tried to reason with me.”

“What’s there to reason for?” Tonks asked. The pain in her voice was shooting prickling guilt that raised the hairs on the back of my neck. “Remus, I know you have feelings for me. Don’t you dare deny it.”

“I’m too old for you,” I said defensively. “And… and I’m too poor. I haven’t had a proper meal for months, the werewolves insist on eating raw meat even when the moon is a crescent or less. But I’ve had to eat it, just to get by. I’m a savage werewolf, Tonks. We both know we’re not meant to be more than just friends. I’ve never been able to have a woman in my life, and that’s how it’s supposed to be. And it just isn’t fair to you. That’s just the way it is.”

She stared at me, not blinking. Then she leaned in and kissed me at the speed of lighting. The force of her kiss sent my head backward against the back of the couch. It took me a few seconds to realize what was happening. When I comprehended, I drew away. I had shot a silver bullet into her in the heart, judging by the snubbed look on her face. It was enough to make me cower. Being with her just wasn’t healthy for either of us.

I left as she wept.

When I came back for Christmas holidays, I made an oath not to visit her and to avoid her at all costs. This was for her benefit, I constantly reminded myself. By then I was accustomed to severing ties before they severed themselves. Yet inside I was disappointed and angrier about being a werewolf than ever. It had yet again ruined my life. But I couldn’t selfishly make her mine. She deserved a young and vibrant man who could take care of her. Not a dangerous werewolf who was getting visibly older by the day.

I was invited to the Burrow for Christmas Day. I felt very comfortable and at ease with everyone for the most part, mostly because Tonks was not there. Harry Potter, James’ son and my closest thing to having a Marauder, was very delighted to see me. Harry did not know I was a werewolf for the school year I taught, but when he found out, he still retained our friendship without any damage. He enjoys my advice and opinions. To me, it’s like seeing James back from the dead. Just looking at him gives my memories of the happiest time of my life.

I went back to the werewolves. Even though being there was my own personal hell, I knew I was doing work for the Order. I have been told I tuck away my feelings and bottle them up too much. But it is better than what these other men and women have come to. They are angry all the time. Some of them, like Fenrir, have a taste for human flesh as humans. It disgusts me and I have promised myself to never stoop to their state. I tried my best to fit in and not look suspicious while in their society. As far as I know, they didn’t suspect me until Fenrir saw me on the night Dumbledore died. He knew what side I was on that night, so I had to discontinue my mission to my dismay and relief.

I had stayed there for a couple months at a time, coming back for a week interval now and then. I avoided Tonks up until the spring, even though she had been on my mind constantly. I knew I had hurt her, and that was enough to drive me mad. I had to apologize.

I knocked on the door of the flat. She opened it to me. Her hair was not the bubblegum pink I wanted to see. It was still a musty shade of brown. Her eyes were their dark shade, but without the laughing sparkle.

“Remus,” she whispered. She collapsed against me with a grasping embrace.

I came in once she had drawn away and started to fix the tea out of her kitchen since she would most likely spill it or burn herself. She watched me as she leaned on the counter. I couldn’t help but steal glances at her. She was a highly attractive woman. For someone who could control their looks, she hadn’t picked what the average person would. She was pretty, but not perfect. She appeared exactly how she should have to reflect her personality, in my opinion. I felt so grieved at disappointing her that I sighed, “I haven’t been fair with you. I shouldn’t have ignored you for so long.”

For once, she was silent. She was a changed woman, I could see. There was a quietness around her that was from disappointment and being surrounded by sadness everyday. There was a war in the world and there was a war inside of her.

“You have to understand,” I continued weakly.

“What if I died tomorrow? I’ve come close to dying several times this year, Remus.”

“Don’t say that,” I begged. I turned away from her and looked down at the counter where the teacups were sitting. I could not look into those dark, accusing eyes. I knew she was trying to trap me.

“If you’re looking for someone to be with you, Tonks… you need to look elsewhere. I told you. I’m not whole.”

She reached out and placed her hand on mine, trying to look me in the eyes. I avoided her gaze. Her voice cracked as she whispered, “I’m not whole either. I need another half… you need someone, Remus. We need each other, especially during times like this.”

“I fear that Fenrir is planning something,” I said blandly, having to change the subject. “He seems excited, and he disappears for days at a time. They — his followers — Voldemort’s followers – are up to something big, and they’re including Fenrir.”

“Have you told the Order?” she asked, taking her hand off mine.

“Yes,” I muttered. “Before I came here. They didn’t seem to be interested… they need more information to take action.”

“Dumbledore knows there’s something going on,” Tonks said worriedly, her dark eyes widening. I met her eyes at long last, because there was fear and melancholic worry in her voice. It was unbearable to witness how dead she was. It was as if a dementor had come and kissed her trembling lips, tapping the life of her and leaving behind a frigidly lost air.

“Tonks,” I said quietly. “Dumbledore knows what he’s doing. As long as we have him, we’ll be fine.”

“Will we, though?” she asked unsurely.

“I promise,” I said quietly. I knew she hadn’t forgotten what we had been talking about before, despite the conversation shift. How I longed to hold her and hide her from the world. Alas, I had to overcome that urge. I couldn’t give in, for I had to be the reasonable one. But her expression was killing me. There is one thing can easily solve most problems. I dug in my cloak and pulled out some chocolate and offered her a piece. She couldn’t resist smiling and taking a bite. She closed her eyes.

“I haven’t had chocolate for a while,” she breathed. She looked at me intently as the savory sweet melted in her mouth, her eyes boring into mine. She appeared to be trying to read my mind with the intensity of her peer. She said in a voice thick and sticky from the chocolate, “Surprising how much you can miss something so much… without even knowing.”

****

I clasped her hand tightly as we made our way amongst the black clad masses to Hogwarts and then to Hogsmeade. We were meeting with fellow Order members at The Hog’s Head, then to go to the Burrow to discuss the future of the Order. Inside my stomach was churning from Dumbledore’s funeral. I knew I was not the only one who had gained from his kindness, but I felt like he cared about my well being above all others, which I am sure is what all others felt. I could not imagine a world without Dumbledore, and lack of him seemed to make our cause hopeless.

Tonks saw my expression and squeezed my hand comfortingly. Her hair had been its regular bright pink shade ever since the night Dumbledore died. She hadn’t cried during the funeral, and neither had I. Silently we seemed to agree that crying would not solve any of our problems.

When all were accounted for at the Hog’s Head, we hurriedly went to the Burrow for privacy. We were there the rest of the day and evening. It was rather late when most of the Order had left. We had decided to continue the Order, but without a leader for the time being. Nobody seemed suitable to fill the shoes Dumbledore had left.

Harry, Hermione, and Ron arrived rather late at night. They appeared quite troubled and secretive. I sensed something between the three of them that we were unaware of. Later I would find out my suspicion was quite correct. I was bidding them farewell to them when I realized I had no place to stay. Tonks sensed my problem as if she had been expecting it all along.

“You could always crash at my place for the night,” she whispered. I hesitated. We had recently started seeing each other and it seemed peculiar to already be sleeping at her place. I decided to pretend it was not unusual at all. I would sleep on her couch.

We arrived at her flat. It was the cleanest I had ever seen it out of all my visits. I went to the kitchen and found the table to have candles set up and a bottle of red wine, as well as a fine meal that must have had heating charms on it. I looked to her in surprise.

She looked down at her hands bashfully, where I could see there were burn marks. She smiled sheepishly and looked back up at me.

“I figured you’d be coming tonight. Figured we’d have a nice time before the war gets really dreadful. I know from now on things aren’t going to be the same out there, but I wanted you to know that I love you.” Her voice broke, which she chose as a reason to stop.

I was touched by the effort she had put into cooking the meal and tidying up her flat. I kissed her forehead and lingered there for a few seconds. “Thank you,” I murmured. We went to the table. The lights of her flat went out, leaving the candlelight as the sole light source.

The food was delicious, but the heating spell had let it crust slightly over the past few hours. I did not mind in the slightest. I had learned to not take any food for granted, after surviving from slightly rotten raw meat for several months. I poured the wine for each of us and sipped it. It was crisp and full of flavor.

“Cheers to a new life together,” Tonks said, lifting her glass. In the glowing firelight her skin looked soft and warm. I had the most peculiar urge to touch her as I raised my own glass. I did not take my eyes off of her.

“Cheers to us,” I added distantly. I looked directly into her eyes, my heart fluttering as I searched for words to say. “And finally seeing we are meant for each other. However unusual that may be. The werewolf and the Metamorphmagus.”

Our glasses clanked and we each took a deep sip.

When we were finished with our meal, I helped her take all the dishes to the sink with a simple levitating charm and aided her in cleaning the dishes. I had missed this familiar kitchen, small and cramped but friendly and inviting.

“Thank you for this,” I said quietly into her ear. “It was very thoughtful…”

She turned off the sink and turned to me. Her lips were ruby red from the wine and looked incredibly enticing. I touched her arms, which were as smooth and warm as they looked. I wrapped my arms around her in a loving embrace. And for the first time, it was me who kissed her. She let out a soft sigh and seemed close to tears.

“Tonks… I love you,” I breathed. My throat felt dry and for some reason I felt close to tears myself. I swallowed deeply, trying to get rid of the scratchy feeling.

“You’re not just saying this because…”

“No,” I murmured. “I’ve loved you. That was why I couldn’t be with you. I.. I wanted what was best for you, Tonks.”

“I understand,” she said. There were tears of relief in her eyes. “You were mistaken, though. Because this is what is best, Remus. Can’t you see?”

“Yes,” I surrendered, kissing her with all I could muster. I felt her warm tears pressing on my own face. I wiped them away and knew this is where we both belonged. In a world torn from world, one had to run back to something. And now we both had love.

****

We carried on with our relationship for the next year. It was not flawless, which can be expected of any healthy relationship. There were some nights where we were fighting about things out of our control, like the dangers of being in the Order. But there was always an apology the next day. Most other nights we would talk or engage ourselves in other activities. There was an occasional Order meeting that we would attend together and then discuss afterwards. On the days, we were summoned to do other things. When Tonks was at the Ministry, I was doing other work for the Order. And there were the few days when we were engaged in battle.

Every battle I was holding my breath, hoping we both would survive. There were a few times that I blocked a spell that was flying at her, or stunned someone who was aiming at her. Death had come so close to clutching her numerous times. That thought kept me awake at night. I had to protect her from any harm. Even if we won a battle, there seemed to be no end to conquering the endless onslaught of Voldemort’s followers.

After the battles, we would go back to her place and celebrate that we were still alive, which was rather morbid. But at the time we didn’t care. We were happy to still have each other, and to be safe for at least a few moments together.

One time we came across Harry, Ron, and Hermione. They had grown so much that I hardly recognized them. I had known them as preteens and throughout their teenage years. Now they were adults, and it stopped me in my tracks. Harry updated me on his mysterious mission for Dumbledore by saying he was close to completing it. Ron and Hermione stayed rather close to each other, and I knew from their faces they had discovered what Tonks and I had. Forlornly I wondered why people procrastinated their feelings for drastic times. I left them with a word of good luck, and a piece of chocolate each, much to Tonks’ humor.

It was late at night in July, over a year since Dumbledore had died, that Kingsley Shacklebolt summoned Tonks and I to the Ministry of Magic. Apparently there was an attack going on.

“Do you think this is the big thing, the attack that Voldemort hopes will beat us?” Tonks asked me breathlessly as she threw on a cloak.

“I’m sure of it,” I replied darkly. “But he will not beat us, never. Let’s go.”

I went first with the Floo powder, distinctly saying my destination. Tonks came after me, coughing from the plethora of soot. When in the atrium, my heart skipped a beat. I had never beheld such a scene.

It was clearly a battle of our wizards versus Death Eaters, werewolves, Inferi, vampires, and others I did not have the time to identify. There was stone debris all over the ground, as well as bodies. The shouts and sounds of spells shooting and ricocheting filled the air. Tonks grabbed my sleeve, and let out a moan.

As an Inferius launched itself at us, a ring of fire erupted from my wand at it.

“I’ll see you in a bit,” Tonks managed breathlessly, raising her wand and shooting curses with dexterity that she seemed to save for vital times.

“I’m not leaving you,” I said, pressing my back to hers and shooting curses in the other direction. “We need to stick together.”

“We’ll be an easy target,” she argued. She pushed me out of the way of a whistling bright purple spell, and then went off in her own direction. Fear clutched me, but she was out of my sight before I knew it.

I tried hard not to worry about her, concentrating on blocking and shooting spells around. My face and robes were soon ripped from the grazing of curses. I was able to bring down quite a few as the adrenaline raced through my veins. I recognized a few werewolves, who were in human form presently. I stunned and bound as many as I could.

After fighting for nearly an hour, I grew weary and tired. I let my guard down slightly, and as a result, a stunner slapped me in the back. Everything went black before I hit the ground.

My mind was filled with images of Tonks. Memories from the past year were appearing to me. Tonks grabbing my cloaks and telling me that she didn’t care. Sipping her coffee thoughtfully. Biting the chocolate truffle I had bought for her after a battle. Kissing me tenderly on her bed. Holding my hand desperately.

When I came to, there were feet racing by my face. Confusedly I sat up, wondering where I was. The happiness that had filled my head did not match up with this chaotic scene. Then I remembered. The atrocity of the situation returned to me, chilling my heart. There were numerous bodies all around me. From what I could gather, they were mostly from the enemy, and they were dead. And luckily, I was still alive. There was still hope. But where was Tonks?

I sat up and desperately looked to the other end of the Atrium. Harry Potter appeared suddenly, standing alone. He met my stare and came bounding. There was a bewildered look of triumph in his eyes.

“Harry,” I said feebly as he helped me up. “What is going on? Are we winning? What have you done?”

“We’ve won,” he said, his voice oddly distant.

“Where is Ron?”

Harry’s eyes frosted over at the mention of his best friend. I took it as bad news.

“And Hermione?”

“I… I don’t know,” he said.

“And Tonks?” I asked frantically. Harry sensed my urgency and quickly looked around. His eyes brightened when he spotted her pink hair.

“She’s over there,” Harry said, pointing to where he had come from.

I looked around again. The people who remained standing were on our side, but there were still a few Death Eaters. I could see her bright pink hair immediately. She was battling a Death Eater heatedly. With a rush of appreciation and admiration, I watched her battle skillfully, her hand a blur as she cast spells and blocked them. I looked back at Harry and saw an intense anger in his eyes that was aimed at the Death Eater she was fighting. We ran as quickly as we could to her. My leg was shooting with pain as I ran, but I had to get to her.

“You traitor,” Tonks said through gritted teeth, now only having the speed to block hexes and not conjure them. I then realized who the Death Eater was. Anger swarmed in my blood.

“Sectumsempra!” boomed the Death Eater. Harry let out a hoarse yell as I shuddered.

The spell simply cut her apart, and blood spurt from her. She stood there and laughed bitterly. Then she crumpled to the ground in defeat.

“Tonks!” I yelled. A spell flew over my head in the direction of Snape, and I heard him shout. But he seemed so far away at that moment, his yell was muffled to me.

I did not care that the blood was oozing onto my only cloak and staining it. Numbly I lifted her frail and limp body into my arms. She looked up at me, a stream of blood escaping her mouth. She was a helpless animal and did not recognize me in her moment of shock. Her eyes were wide with surprise and she let out a strained and whimpering choke from the blood that was seeping into her lungs. Her hair rapidly turned a dark brown color which she had once told me was the color she was born with. It lengthened at the speed of sound and then stopped when she shuddered and fell against my chest. Oh, Tonks. My sweet Tonks…

“No,” I lamented, my throat seizing to allow another word to emit. She was still warm but her breath did not caress my face. Her pounding heart had become quite still. I held her tightly to me, refusing to believe she was dead. My face wrinkled against tears, because I knew they could not help. I felt a hand on my shoulder but refused to acknowledge that there was still world outside this tragedy. I held her and sobbed until my tears were spent, despite my promise to not cry. Her face was white, her lips parted and red from the blood. I wiped away the crimson trail and set her on the ground. Her hair fanned on the floor as if she were floating underwater. She appeared ever so peaceful and careless as she did in sleep, like an angel. But now she was in a permanent state of slumber. She was gone. Oh, my Tonks…

She made me feel like a whole man – not the diseased half-breed I had accepted my whole life. My worth was increased by her grace. She revisits me often, but not in the flesh. Those memories of her laughter and lovely eyes and kisses haunt me. How I have longed to touch her again, to hear her voice in the morning and just before falling asleep. I want to feel her warmth against me when it is cold outside. I want to hold her hand and feel a squeeze of comfort. I want to sip coffee with her, with caramel and cream and sugar in it. I want to share a treat with her, because she is still alive and we are still together.

Yet I know it is impossible. I cling desperately to the limited memories as I continue to live in a more peaceful world. It is a happy ending of sorts, this I know. The world is a better place because people like Tonks were sacrificed. There are sacrifices and tragedies in war, and it is unfair. She died for a good cause, and as a brave warrior. It’s not fair people so young must leave for such bitter purposes. Oh, my sweet Tonks.

She and I were destined to be together from the start, this I now know. Such a delectable and desirable woman, and I did not have a chance to fully taste her wonderment. I felt I paled in comparison to her, and watched her rot away. And when I finally decided to savor her, my chance had decayed before my eyes.

And this is what I leave you with: do not let the chocolate stale.