~~Imperfections~~
~By Weaving Radiance~~

~To Writing Buddy Enomix, who helped me loads with this story (once again ^_^)~

We were at it again. And just after dinner, too. Molly had gone through all that work, and here we were, fighting and souring the mood just after we'd all shared a wonderful meal. I was plenty mad at myself, of course, but I have to say, I was angrier at Remus. He could be such a stubborn-arse mule sometimes, and it was getting more infuriating by the day.

I knew what I was getting into when we started out, this whole dating concept (which, surprisingly, seemed like a pretty foreign concept to dear old Remus). I knew what he was, and what he could do, and what it might mean for me, or for our children (if we ever decided to have one. Or two. Or three. However many times I forgot to use you-know-what, I guess.) I'm not an idiot. But Remus seems to think I very much am.

We were outside the Burrow, right on the front lawn, and I hoped to God that no one inside the house could hear us at that particular moment.

You see, during dessert, Molly had asked me how my day had gone at the Ministry. They hadn't fired me yet, considering they only suspected me for working for the Order, and I was just under surveillance at that time. I'd accidentally let slip that Louise Sanders had been ignoring my owls for weeks, and that I suspected it had to do with prejudice, when Remus had slammed his fork down on the table and asked to be excused.

"Oh, dear," Molly murmured.

"Pardon me, Molly, everyone," I said as I added a few highlights of orange in my now-dark brown, pixie-cut hair and followed Remus towards the door.

And just to make the moment perfect, I stumbled on my bootlaces as I walked out and nearly fell into Charlie Weasley, who was just getting up to use the loo at the same moment. "Sorry, Charlie," I muttered to him before storming after my lovely fiancé.

"Remus, honestly," I said, exasperated, as I followed him into the yard. "It's not that big of a deal. Louise Sanders is a spineless, annoying little bint, and—"

He stopped in his tracks and whirled around to face me, face looking oddly controlled, as if he were trying to stop himself from exploding at me.

"Yes, Tonks, it is a big deal!" Remus hissed softly, lip curling. That's a rare occurrence for Remus; his lips curling, I mean. Sometimes he does this nostril-flaring thing that really is quite intimidating, but the lip curling – that means that he's really disgusted with something, and a disgusted Remus is worse than a mad Remus, because a disgusted Remus is much rarer, moodier, and harder to pry out of his funk.

I refrained from rolling my eyes. "Do you really care what a little dolt like Louise Sanders thinks about you and I?"

"No, I care that being involved with me is interfering with your job," he retorted, and I felt a flash of anger. Remus flinched a bit; probably because my hair had just started to burn bright red.

"I don't really care about my job anymore, Remus," I said, frustrated. How could he not know this by now? I'd fallen for him ages ago, and he really was an idiot for thinking otherwise. "It's not like I'm going to be able keep it for that long, anyway. And that has nothing to do with you," I added, making sure to clear that up. I didn't need another point for him to argue with.

"Well how about when you're going out or something?" he continued, "and the bartender turns you away because he knows who you're with?"

"I don't think I'm going out for a long time," I said, almost laughing. This whole conversation was ridiculous.

"That's not my point, Tonks!" Remus insisted, tugging at his hair. I hate it when he does that. He looks rather deranged.

"Then what is your point, Remus?" I demanded. "Give me one, good, un-arguable reason why this isn't working out!" I hated to shout, I really did, but I couldn't help it. I love him so much, but he makes me so bloody angry sometimes.

"You are going to get shunned," he insisted, his voice getting quieter, tremble-ier, and hoarser as he went on. "Because of me."

"Do you really think I give a hippogriff's shit about that, Remus?" I asked. I took a step closer to him, only now realizing how far apart we were standing. "I don't care about that. I never did, and I never will. 'Those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind,'" I reminded him, sharing a muggle quote that Arthur Weasley had found a few weeks ago that he thought I would like.

"I know, Tonks, I know, but the thing is I mind! I can't do this to you, knowing how alone you'll be, all because of me…"

"I'll never be alone." I said. "Plenty of people matter and don't mind about me, Remus! We were just in a room full of them."

"THEN WHAT ABOUT MY CHILD?" Remus roared, and I shrank back. I had never seen him this angry before. Usually he was so quiet, solemn, calm-mannered…

And the look on his face made it seem like he wanted to shrink back from himself. He trembled, and my heart nearly broke. Sometimes, when we fought, I forgot about how much I loved him.

He was making choking, sobbing sounds, though no tears fell down his face. "If we have a child, Tonks…. W-what if… what if he's like me? Werewolves have never… pro… procreated… with humans before. What… what if I've just doomed my own innocent child?"

I reached out a hand towards him him, wanting to just wrap him in my arms and comfort him, to tell him it would all turn out fine, that everything would be okay, even if I had no idea if I was right. But he wasn't finished.

"Sometimes… sometimes I think… I'd be happier on my own," he confessed.

That stung. A lot. It was as if each word was a bee, and each bee was sticking its pointy little bum into my heart, one by one. I'd be happier on my own. I could feel my hair fading from fiery red to a deep, melancholy blue. My eyes welled up. He'd never said that before.

"…Happier... at least… knowing you were okay and—and safe and better-off. Without me."

I refused to let him go on. This was insane. And depressing. Plus I was a bit upset with him for making me cry. I walked up to him and wrapped my arms around his neck. He smelled like old wood, and mustiness. I had to get him out of that disgusting flat.

"Remus." He looked right down at me, so I didn't have to move his chin with my finger to make him look me in the eye, like they do in those corny muggle films that Molly coerces me into watching sometimes.

"This whole bloody row is ridiculous. If we decide to… procreate—" as he so nicely put it, "—and something happens, then the baby will have the perfect father to show him the ropes. If he does end up like you at all," I added.

He was quiet for a moment, which I considered to be a good sign. Then he let out a big sigh, a sigh so full of defeat and acceptance that I almost felt bad trying to convince him he was wrong. He leaned forward and lightly pressed his forehead against mine. "How the hell did I ever get so lucky?" he whispered, his cool breath running over my face and sending chills down my back. "So lucky to get someone like you, Tonks. I don't deserve you. I don't think I ever will."

"Of course not, Moony," I said, trying to lighten the mood. It made me uncomfortable when he started talking like this, saying how I was too good for him and stuff like that. "I will forever be superior to you. And don't you forget it."

He chuckled and kissed me on the cheek, slowly wrapping his arms around my waist. There, I thought, satisfied, That's how it was supposed to be.

I started humming—though I really shouldn't have, me being tone-deaf and all—and Remus laughed at my attempt at a romantic ballad, but danced with me anyway, under the twinkling of white stars and the soft glow of a waning moon.

~I~

All in all, I'm glad that I married him and "procreated" with him. I'm choosing to ignore the little stunt he pulled, leaving me and poor Teddy at Mum's while he went off to find Harry.

I died Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin (Or Tonks Lupin, as I prefer to be called) with a wedding band of silver (a bit of irony Lupin let me enjoy—you know, the whole silver bullet thing) and lying side-by-side with the love of my life. You can't get much better than that.

And so I am and will forever be thankful to whatever higher being that is letting me sit here at King's Cross station, blanketed in white; whoever is letting me write this tribute to myself and Remus John Lupin. I know that I will not be given the choice, as Harry will in a short while. I have a ticket, for a train headed on.

My parting words: love is not perfect. No love was, is, or ever will be. In fact, let's face it—what is love if it knows no imperfections? There will be times when you're sure that you've fallen out of love. And maybe you have. But love has a mind of its own, and when it wants to keep on, it'll keep on. It's up to us to figure out what the hell it's telling us.

So here is Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin, signing off, leaving these few sheets paper where someone will find them, and trying not to trip on my boot laces on my out. I'm sorry if if my handwriting is terrible, but I've got somewhere to be now.

My train is here.