9A/N: For Meg. It's not a multi-chapter, but it's the longest Remus/Tonks piece I've written yet. Please know that you are amazing. I am so thankful that I have been lucky enough to get to know you, and to read your beautiful writing. I hope you enjoy this!
"The only way to trust someone is to trust them." – Ernest Hemingway.
They are mismatched, yet they match in all the right ways.
They are a patchwork of grief and insecurities and joy and laughter and, above all, love. They are memories and moments and flashes of feeling, they are their good days, their bad days and all the days in between.
Their names are Remus and Tonks, and these are the snapshots that make them.
.~.~.
"Dora, I don't think you should come to Grimmauld Place tomorrow… It's the day after a full moon and I – I don't like people seeing me so weak after the transformations. I'd hate for you to see me that way."
Shame makes him avert his eyes, so he doesn't see her roll hers. "Sirius sees you nearly every month after a full moon." She points out. "Besides, I'm not going to think badly of you just because you're a little tired! I won't be loud like I usually am. I'll just be here to keep you company, I don't see what's so bad about that."
"Well, you wouldn't, Dora." A ghost of a smile drifts over his face at her unquestioning acceptance. "Nonetheless, I don't want you here."
"Liar," she snaps. His words sting even though she can see straight through them. "I guess I'll be going then." She turns on her heel and leaves without saying goodbye to anyone, slamming the door behind her. Before it closes entirely, she hears Sirius enter the kitchen.
"Moony, did I just hear you call my cousin Dora?"
She smiles to herself, resolving to be there in the morning anyway, and the flicker of pleasant surprise in Remus' eyes tells her she made the right decision. She goes to Grimmauld Place after every full moon from that month on, and Remus never fails to look grateful and almost disbelieving that she is actually there to see him.
It is because, she realises, he hasn't had anyone show him that kind of care and attention in a very long time, and Tonks feels privileged to be the one to give it to him. Time rewards her persistence, as he learns to let her into his precious, private world.
.~.~.
"Merry Christmas, Remus," she beams, offering him a brightly wrapped package.
His "thank you" in response is curt and cold, and she is taken aback.
"What's the matter? You can hate it yet; you haven't even opened it!"
"I'm not going to open it, Nymphadora. You needn't have gone to the effort of getting me a gift. I told you that. I told you I didn't want anything."
She's so busy defending herself that she forgets to protest his use of her first name. She finds she doesn't mind it as much when it comes from his lips, anyway.
He turns his back on her and retreats upstairs to his bedroom, still clutching her gift in his hands. Tonks is left to stare, crestfallen, at his retreating back, the dull shade of her hair revealing her disappointment.
"Don't worry about him," Sirius says, approaching from behind and clapping her comfortingly on the shoulder. "He just hates receiving gifts because he feels like he can never give enough back. Doesn't mean he's not grateful though, and I'm sure he'll tell you that himself, when he comes round."
Sirius is right, at the end of the night Remus comes down from his room. As she's about to leave, he self-consciously takes her aside. "I'm sorry," he says, and he certainly looks it. "I shouldn't have been so rude to you. My behaviour was inexcusable, and I can only hope that we can still be friends. All my life I have been pitied and I – I don't want to be pitied by you, Tonks. I value your friendship very much."
She listens earnestly to his explanation, feeling a deep pang of admiration for the way the man before her can have been through so much yet remained so kind and compassionate and extraordinarily good.
"Of course you're forgiven! Or excused, or whatever you want to call it. And you'd better hope that we're still friends, who would I have fun with on Order missions otherwise? Not to mention, who'd keep me company when Sirius has drunk himself into a stupor? Taking care of an ex-fugitive is not an activity to be undertaken alone."
Her joke earns her a smile from Remus, and truthfully, it is the best Christmas present she could have asked for.
"I'd better let you go. Merry Christmas, Nymphadora." Beneath her purple beanie, the sound of her name makes her hair turn pink.
"Merry Christmas, Remus." Impulsively, she cranes her neck and places a tentative kiss on his cheek, leaving before she can see his reaction.
She practically bounces home, replaying his every word and gesture over in her mind, and that night, she falls asleep with a smile still lighting her face.
.~.~.
The next day while she's eating her breakfast, there is a tap at her window. She looks up and sees a very old, very tired looking owl watching her expectantly. Tied to its leg are a package and a note.
Dear Nymphadora,
I am so very sorry we argued last night. Or rather, I am sorry that I caused a temporary rift between us. I hope that such a thing never happens again.
I opened your gift this morning, and I cannot express how much it means to me. You are truly amazing. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.
Though it is nothing compared to what you gave me, I have attached my gift to you. I hope it reminds you, at times when you might forget, that it sometimes takes another person to see beauty where we might not be able to see it ourselves.
Yours,
Remus
Grinning broadly, she unties the package and opens it with shaking hands and excitement she can barely contain.
She withdraws a clear glass jar and sets it on the table next to the letter, so she can scrutinise it more closely. A ballerina figurine, identifiable by her pink leotard and tutu, is curled at the bottom, her hands covering her face. Before Tonks' eyes, the ballerina moves slowly into a standing position, hands still covering her face. She removes one, and then the other, so that her porcelain face is revealed, shy and uncertain at first before blossoming into a smile.
The figurine raises her face to the sky, with a serenity she had not before possessed. Her hair, which had been brown and bound in a tight bun, tumbles down her shoulders, changing colours as it does, so by the time she begins a faultless pirouette, it is bright pink to match Tonks' own.
The level of spell work required to create such an effect is immense, and Tonks is both touched and impressed by the obvious thought he put into her present.
There is a plaque on the front of the glass, and it reads: Nymphadora – Gift of the Nymphs
There is another explanatory note in the packaging.
I've heard you joke many a time that you always wanted to be a ballerina, simply because you were constantly told you were too clumsy to be one. With this gift, I contend that you don't need to be. You may not be exceedingly graceful, but you are without a doubt the most gracious person I have ever met, and that, I think, is most important.
Walking slowly and with extra caution, she places his gift reverently on her bedside table, where it will be the first thing she sees when she wakes up in the morning, and hurries off, tripping several times in her eagerness, to write him a note in reply.
Her gift to him had been a hand written, decorated list of various reasons why she thought he was a remarkable person, and not one of them had anything to do with him being a werewolf. She'd enchanted the paper so that the reason changed each time he looked at it, with the intention that when looking at it, he never forgets how worthy he is.
Initially, she'd been worried that her gift revealed too much of her feelings, and it might scare him away. After receiving his present, though, those worries disappear. If anything, he may have revealed a great deal more than he intended with something so personal and heartfelt.
At least now they know where they stand, and they know they care about each other deeply, even if Remus might never openly admit it.
.~.~.
Tonks sits at the table, staring absent-mindedly at the paperwork in front of her. She is meant to be focusing on You-Know-Who's latest attack, a so-called hurricane that was really a bunch of giants wreaking havoc, but her mind is full of nothing except Remus.
There is a knock at her door, and she sluggishly moves towards it, in no mood to entertain. "Who is it?"
"Remus John Lupin," comes the reply, and Tonks hears none of his subsequent security information. She is already unlocking the door, beaming with hope and delight. Could he have changed his mind? She wishes she was wearing something other than her unflattering old pyjamas, but she figures that Remus never really judges her on her appearance anyway.
"Come in," she says, and he does.
"Wotcher, Remus. This is a pleasant surprise! Did you want a cup of tea?"
"No, this is just a quick visit. Molly mentioned that you've been rather down, and I wanted to make sure it wasn't because of what I said."
"What you said? You mean how I told you that I loved you and you told me that I shouldn't say something like that because you were a poor, old and dangerous werewolf?"
"Yes," he says stiffly. "That."
Her hair begins to turn red; the colour begins at the tips and slowly makes its way up until every strand of her hair right up to the roots is an equally angry crimson. Remus watches her apprehensively, knowing that a change to her hair, especially now it is so often brown, is not a warning sign to be ignored.
"As a matter of fact, Remus, that is exactly why I'm feeling this way. I don't suppose you've come here to tell me you've changed your mind?"
"My feelings on the matter remain the same. This isn't easy for me, Tonks! I don't want to stay away from you; I have to, for your own good! We can never and we will never be together. That's all there is to it."
She grits her teeth and crosses her arms, furious. "I guess we'll have to agree to disagree."
.~.~.
"Ready to go?"
"Just a second," Tonks replies, hopping on one foot as she hastily pulls on a shoe. "Okay, ready."
Tonks walks out first, and Remus closes and locks the door behind them, carefully erecting wards and protective charms. He won't take any chances with her safety.
They set off towards the apparition point, and she reaches for his hand, but he awkwardly moves it into his pocket and out of her reach. She raises a pink eyebrow quizzically, causing him to smile in spite of himself.
"We've finally got over all that too old, too poor, too dangerous crap, so would you mind filling me in on what's going through your head so we can avoid a repeat of those months of pain and awkwardness, please? Actually, that's not a question. Honesty, we agreed, has to be a fundamental part of our relationship. So this is me demanding that you tell me why you suddenly seem allergic to my presence in public."
He sighs heavily, trying to avoid an explanation.
"Oh no, you're not getting out of this one, mister! We're not leaving until this is cleared up." With that, she walks the few steps back to their flat, surreptitiously undoes the protective spells in case any Muggles are watching, and stalks inside.
Shaking his head in affectionate amusement, Remus follows. "If you keep this up, we'll be late for the funeral…" She doesn't seem to care, and he's not surprised.
The moment they're over the threshold, she grabs his hand again, and he squeezes back automatically.
"This is interesting," she muses. "I don't have horrible scaly skin and I'm pretty sure I don't smell, which leads me to believe that your aversion isn't of me, exactly, it's of…the outside world? I'm hypothesising here, feel free to throw in your two Sickles at any time and help me out."
"I don't have an aversion to the outside world, I just – it's dangerous for you to be seen with me. If the Ministry know we're together, your reputation will be ruined. You could lose your job, and I know how much it means to you."
"So…you're happy to be in a relationship with me, as long as it's some big secret and we act like we don't know each other in public?"
He fidgets uncomfortably. "It sounds ridiculous when you put it like that…"
"Good. I'm glad you think so. Now, we're going to go back outside and I'm going to hold your hand and you're going to hold mine, and we're not going to give a damn what anybody else thinks. And you're going to remember that a) without meaning to sound arrogant, I am damn good at my job, and they won't sack me if they know what's good for them and b) even if they do, as much as I love my job, I love you more. You have to trust me on that. Okay?"
He smiles and kisses her spontaneously in response. "Okay"
As they're walking to the apparition point again, hand in hand this time, Tonks turns towards him. "Isn't this better?"
"This is perfect."
.~.~.
Their names are Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks, and their love is unbreakable.
Also written for:
The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition round 12 (Prompts: poor, warning sign, Hemingway quote)
The 25 Days of Christmas Competition: gifts
The Sherlock Competition: Part 3, Prompt 6
The Disney Movie Plotline Competition: Old Yeller
Fantastic Beasts Challenge: Porlock
The Latin Challenge: Amo
The Ultimate Het Love Competition: Ravenclaw (prompts: fundamental, just, crimson)