Enough to Walk Away

by: HulaHula

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters, settings, etc. from the Harry Potter Universe. Jo Rowling does.

Remus carefully began to rub his sore jaw. Groaning softly, he lifted his other hand two inches off the floor and muttered, “Accio.” Instantly a wand flew from a high shelf into his sweating hand. Then he retracted his hand to let it rest on his bruised chest.

Remus Lupin was lying underneath the boarded window of his bedroom. The rough wooden floor was bare except for his limp form. The evening before, Remus had shrunk the few pieces of furniture that usually adorned this room and placed them safely on the high shelf with his wand.

Remus glanced up at the light filtering through the wooden slates covering the window. Dawn had arrived half an hour before. However, time was still a blur to Remus. He squeezed his eyes closed.

Nymphadora. His thoughts reminded him. She was still downstairs. It was far too early for her to be awake. Good. He thought. She will not see me like this . . . if I hurry.

Remus slid his hands to the floor, and tried to raise his torso. But his muscles did not want to obey. He fell to the floor, flat on his back, with a mumbled curse. He anxiously shuffled his legs, only to curse again when he felt sharp pains race up his thighs. They felt sticky and wet. The wolf must have used its’ hunches as a chew toy the night before.

His arms were shaking from a sudden chill. He had removed his robes as well, before the moon had risen. He opened his eyes as a door slammed in his kitchen. Tonks was awake.

Remus moaned in frustration. I will not let her see me hurt and bare on this floor! It will only upset her . . .

He raised his shaking hand and issued another spell silently. He then used his wand to change the small cube that had floated to the floor beside him back into his robes.

His ears picked up her foot fall as she ascended the stairs. By sheer will power, he raised up to a sitting position, using his left hand to pull the robes over his tired legs and bleeding lap.

A soft knock sounded. “Remus . . . ?” Her sweet voice called from the behind the old door.

Curling his hands into fists, Remus said weakly, “Come in . . . Nymphadora.”

Instantly, the door slammed open from the force of her unlocking charm. She looked like a gorgeous mess. Her maroon satin gown was wrinkled. And there were dark smudges underneath her red eyes.

Remus had never seen a more beautiful sight.

Despite his cracked lips, Remus smiled. But he didn’t get a smile in return.

“Oh . . . Remus.” She wailed. She dropped the wooden tray she had been carrying to the floor at his side, and fell to her knees. She began to tug on his robe.

“Remus . . . here. Let me – ” She got out, fighting his hands and his protests.

“Tonks!” He gasped, as she slapped a generous amount of stinging ointment on a large cut near his shoulder.

He turned his wide eyes to the wooden tray. Obviously, she had more painful healing solutions to come. After two minutes of torture, he finally caught her full attention – one hand grasping her two and the other cupping her trembling chin.

“Tonks . . . ” He said softly, both to comfort and from exhaustion. “I’m alright. I– I just need help w–with my robes . . . ”

“Yes.” She uttered, true tears beginning to cascade. Carefully, she helped him sit up properly and place both arms into their respective slots.

“What do you need?” She pleaded, quietly. “Your legs . . . I– I went out a bit ago . . . found this potion for deep cuts . . . h–here . . . ”

She hurriedly began to fumble with a large bottle. Just as she forced the cap off, she gave a startled gasp.

Remus’ clammy forehead had landed on her shoulder. She immediately dropped the bottle, and clasped his shoulder and neck. Rubbing his hair, she cried loudly, “Remus! No . . . ”

But he merely turned his neck to glance up at her. “Nymph . . . leave the b–bottle. I need . . . r–rest . . . just . . . hold m–me.” He finished with a sigh, completely resting his torso on her kneeling form.

Unfolding her knees from under her, Tonks gathered him firmly into her arms. She gave a sigh of relief. Her panic slowly began to recede.

Holding back her sobs, she mumbled fiercely, “I came up here last night. I know you said not to – but Remus! I’m sorry . . . I– I removed the silence . . . I heard . . . Please, please . . . I don’t care the cost. The potion . . . ”

She tenderly traced a scratch on his hollow cheek, waiting for his response to her stuttered confession. But Remus didn’t respond, only let his lashes flutter closed.

Remus did not know how to respond. He let her rock him softly for several minutes, as he gathered his thoughts. Wolfsbane . . . she wants the potion . . . His mind whispered. He felt her finger running over his thick brow.

He hated his weakness – lying here, being cradled like a child. Yet, he could never bring himself to complain. How I love this woman . . . His thoughts recited. Her floral scent filled his sensitive nose. He allowed himself to drift into blissful nothingness as she began massaging his empty right hand.

“Next time.” She cleared her throat suddenly. “You will have the potion.”

He cracked his eyes open. Sighing, he leaned back to face her. He took in her horrified gaze, trembling pursed mouth, and crinkled brow.

We do not have the money. His mind insisted. But it is what she wants. His heart reminded him.

Remus drew in a shaky breath. I love her . . . His heart echoed. Enough to do as she wishes.

“Fine.” He said, raising his thumb to caress the corner of her mouth. “I will take the potion.”

She turned her head a bit, grasped his raised hand, and kissed his palm. “Thank you.” She whispered with a small sigh. He leaned forward again, out of exhaustion.

“Now,” She said in her curt, I-mean-business voice, “Let me heal those cuts.”

She reached over for the abandoned bottle, as Remus released his breath, preparing himself for the onslaught.

Suddenly, he felt an unexpected chuckle fill his chest. He knew there was no fighting her when she used that voice. The same voice she had used so many times over the last year – assuring him over and over again that she loved him, and would never take ‘no’ for an answer.

“What are you laughing at?” She asked, truly confused by his sudden change. Through his hiss of pain, as she dabbed a wet cloth on his thigh, Remus smiled. Everything is going to be alright. He thought. As long as I have her to wake up to . . . every morning . . . every month . . .

Please, please, PLEASE Review!