A/N: Well, roll on story two! This is a sequel to You Me and a Werewolf Makes 3, but can be read as a stand alone, because I've written a summary underneath. Saying that, please feel free to read YMW3 (all 46 chapters) and review of course ;) This is the second story in the trilogy. It is more of an interlude though. Most of the happenings take place in Grimmauld Place and focus on my favourite character, Mr R J Lupin.
Hmm, lets see…things that I haven't mentioned in the summary that you might need to know: This is set in Harry's 7th Year. Tonks has been DADA professor for the past year. Hermione's parents have died and she's living at GP. Tonks was in a relationship with Charlie Weasley until he broke up with her for kissing Remus. Remus and Tonks are best friends and are not in a relationship. The only time they have been…intimate, was when she conceived…Um that's it I hope.
If something doesn't make sense, please say so in a review :) Cheers
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. You all know that anyway.
PS: This story is dedicated to Hope as, if it wasn't for her, you guys would probably not be reading it for a few months, lol.
The story so far:
Nymphadora Tonks, seven months pregnant with Remus Lupin's child, has left for Canada to be with her parents and Muggle family. This decision came after Voldemort requested her to join them, having found out that she killed her aunt (and former Death Eater) Bellatrix Lestrange. Peter Pettigrew was placed in charge of 'recruiting' Tonks. He however was killed by Lupin, who feared for the safety of his friend and unborn child. Once in the safety of Grimmauld Place, Lupin suggests that Tonks leaves over the summer, until the trouble with the Death Eaters calms down. This is where our story continues… with a werewolf who is, once again, alone.
"Some things you don't see until they leave you… they're the things that you miss. Baby when all your love has gone, who will save me from all I'm up against out in this world?" – Bright Lights: Matchbox 20.
She had left him … left him with the war threatening to erupt in the world around them. She had left him in a time when he had needed her the most, when he had sunk to a level that he swore he would never reach … he had murdered his final friend.
He had needed her, as she had needed him when her life had spiralled downwards. After her confrontation with her Aunt Bellatrix, eight months ago now, she became a broken shell of the vibrant woman she once was. To take the life of someone you once loved…it was hard. He knew this; he had done it himself. But he had been there for her, and had helped her rebuild the world that had shattered around her. Yet where was she when his world had fallen? She had left him.
He reminded himself daily, as he poured himself another drink with his shaking hands, that it had been his idea. He had made her leave in search of her family. He had wanted her to be safe, of course he had, and yet a part of him felt slightly selfish and wished that she hadn't gone … a small part of him anyway.
He dreamt of her, almost every night. Those nights that weren't of her were often of Sirius. Good and bad, it varied. Then, on the rare occasion he would dream of them together. They would laugh in the kitchen, talking of her childhood and their happier memories of happier times; not like now.
Had he hoped for too much? A woman to love him, a child to call his own. Such privileges were rarely offered to someone like him. And yet, he would ponder on her final words to him as her cab was waiting; I love you, Remus. Had he heard her right? He couldn't exactly have called after her as she ran, 'Excuse me? What did you say?' No, for one brief moment he could have sworn he had heard those words. 'I love you, Remus.' Perhaps he had imagined it. Most probably. But with his whole being he hoped that these words were true, that she did in fact feel the same as he did.
He had told her, before she walked away, that he thought he loved her, when in fact he couldn't have been any more certain. He hated himself for not telling her. He could only hope that she knew.
He wrote to her once. The words came to him suddenly, and he had to write down his feelings before they became too much for him to bear. Unable to send it, he placed the letter into his drawer and whispered the word 'Soon'.
Hermione had heard him crying in the night. He knew she had. The girl never spoke of it, but would embrace him tightly the next morning, albeit briefly, but just enough to let him know that he still had someone. But it wasn't her.
He had begun to drink. He hated himself for it, but it passed the time. Soon Harry would come home, here to Grimmauld Place. The man knew that the drinking would have to stop. But Hermione would fill the boy in on his guardian's disheartening behaviour. She was worried, as Harry would be. He supposed he should be grateful to have someone care for him. But they weren't her.
When he closed his eyes, he saw her. Naturally dark hair falling in loose waves to her shoulders or those playful, pink spikes. Her deep dark eyes, which were sometimes haunted by thoughts he couldn't see, but always seemed to sparkle when she smiled at him. The Black cheekbones and her cute button nose. That smooth, creamy skin. Her laugh, sometimes a tinkle, often a bark so much like Sirius' but much more lighter. She had not been as bitter as him. Her petite frame, her small hands that fitted so well into his own. The ever-growing bump, which she tapped absently while she hummed to herself. He had chuckled lightly upon reading one of her many sloganed tee shirts: I'm not fat, I'm pregnant! 'What? It's true!' she had insisted with a squeal.
Oh how he loved her.
To think of her was painful, yet comforting. He needed to; he was worried he'd forget her. This, of course, was ridiculous. She had only been gone a month. But to Remus, every day felt like a lifetime.
She had told him before she had left that she knew he would mope. He had to agree that he was! But, as Harry's return approached, he knew that he had to buck himself up. The boy would arrive and then, as she had promised, his Dora would come home to him.
'Soon,' he whispered into his empty glass. 'Soon.'