AN: I wrote this on the train home the other day. I feel that it is clumsy and obvious but other people have told me that it's good. So, I'm posting it here. I feel in the mood to be abused for my sucky writing by random strangers. So... have at it.
The War was over. Voldemort was dead. The Boy Who Lived had defeated the Darkest Wizard that had ever existed once and for all. Despite their weariness and sorrow, there was a sort of stunned relief hanging over all the witches and wizards that called Wizarding Britain home.
But, in that Battle, both Nymphadora Tonks and Remus Lupin had perished... or had they? There had been no time during the confusion of the fighting, to actually check each of the fallen for signs of life. All had simply been gathered up as quickly as possible and laid to rest in the Great Hall by students, teachers and others who had then departed once more to either continue fighting or to collect more of their wounded and dead.
Ginny Weasley, shocked and numbed by the death of her beloved brother had moved slightly apart from her grieving family. She had been searching for Harry, but, upon finding him surrounded by many people, had picked a quiet bench near to her parents and brothers but still, a little bit away from them. She had needed... space. It was there, however, gazing distractedly about the Great Hall, that her gaze had fallen upon the bodies of Tonks and Remus. Tears had clouded her vision and, at first, she had assumed that it was them that had caused her to see what she had seen.
But wait! There it was again!
Scrambling off her seat, the young witch fell to her knees between the bodies of her former Defence Against the Dark Arts professor and his wife, her friend. "Professor?" Her voice cracked as she reached out to tentatively lay a hand on his shoulder. She shook him lightly. "Professor Lupin?" She tried again, dashing the tears from her eyes.
Slowly, ever so slowly, amber eyes flickered open and the slight rise and fall of the man's chest became noticeably stronger. It was that, that had first caught her attention. Those oddly-coloured eyes fixed on the girl's face with a semi-startled expression as if the man that they belonged to was unsure exactly why he was seeing his former student. He'd been fairly certain he was dead after all. "Ginny?" The voice which spoke the girl's name was weak and hoarser than ever but the werewolf was definitely alive. The red-head fell back on her haunches with a squeak of surprise.
"Dora?" A semi-resigned, fearful note had crept into the hoarse rasp now. As if its owner knew the answer to the question but had had to give voice to it. Sniffling, Ginny shook her head once, sorrow showing clearly in her warm brown eyes. "I'm... I'm sorry Professor." She wiped her nose on her sleeve. "But... it doesn't look like it." Her voice, which had been surprisingly steady, cracked on the last sentence.
"Ah." Was all he said in response, but his shoulders slumped and his eyes slid shut once more. Ginny, fearful once again, fumbled for a pulse and found one, to her relief. He had simply exhausted the meagre strength he had managed to gather. Tears were falling freely down her pale face as the girl quietly gathered a couple of the more able-bodied students to convey their ex-Professor and his young wife up to the Hospital Wing. Although her friend was... dead... it did not feel right to separate them. Ginny was glad she had decided to bring them both as Madam Pomfrey, upon examining the body of the young witch, had joyful news.
Nymphadora Tonks was lost, drifting somewhere in a grey, clinging fog. The young mother could dimly hear voices, and then, only one voice which rose and fell as if pleading with someone or something. She could not make out the words or who was speaking, but, irrationally, she wished the speaker would stop talking. She was tired... so very tired... and the voice was not allowing her to sleep. Even though the words were indistinct and the voice itself, whilst vaguely familiar was also not clear, she had a feeling that the words were meant for her. It was annoying. Why couldn't they just let her rest?
"Dora... Dora please... please wake up!" Ever since Madam Pomfrey had informed the werewolf and the breathless young red-head that Tonks was not dead but in the grip of a fearsome Dark curse, her husband had not left her side. Since regaining his own strength, he had sat stubbornly at his wife's bedside, holding her hand and pleading with her to fight it, to wake up, to return to him... Despite the matron's fussing, he had refused to leave and finally, the nurse had given up. Maybe it would help the young woman to break the curse.
After what felt like years, the fog surrounding the young woman suddenly lifted and Tonks could see a peculiar scene. Remus was seated at the bedside of... someone. He was holding their hand and talking to them. Whoever they were, the identity of the bedridden person was hidden from her, but Tonks did not care about that. Her eyes had immediately been drawn to her husband. He looked as if he had aged ten years. He was haggard and worn and there were deep circles, dark like bruises, under his eyes. Tonks ached to wrap her arms around him and reassure him that everything was going to be okay. As if this longing had flipped a switch, the young woman could, quite abruptly, hear just what her husband was saying. The words merged with and then became that dim voice which had been haunting her ever since she had come to this strange place.
"Dora," he was saying, nay, pleading. "Dora, please... wake up... please... you must fight..." He was begging of the figure in the bed. Dora... That was her! It was she who was lying in the bed. It was she whom he was begging of to fight. But... fight what? And how? These questions swirled about her mind and suddenly, she knew. She knew what she must do, and how it must be done. Straining with all her might, the young woman threw everything she had into getting back to her body. She must slide into it, and soon, or she would be lost forever. She was not sure how she knew this, she just did. And then... with a soft "click", she was there, sliding into it. It felt like coming home.
Remus, eyes never straying from his wife's pale face, noticed almost immediately that something had changed. The features, which had seconds before appeared lifeless and mask-like, picked up some spark of... something. Squeezing her hand tighter, his litany of pleas picked up, as if he could draw her back to him by mere strength of will. A low groan fell from the young woman's lips and her eyes ever so slowly flickered open.
It had to have been the most difficult thing the girl had ever attempted. Who knew that merely opening your eyes could be so monumentally difficult? With a soft groan, the young woman forced leaden eyelids to part. They opened to see the most beautiful sight she could ever hope for. Blue-grey eyes met those of polished amber, which were shining with love and an overwhelming joy. "Remus." It was a dry, dusty croak that fell from those lips but the werewolf didn't care. She was awake! As she spoke his name again, voice slightly stronger, they were both overcome by the feeling that everything was going to be alright. They were both alive and they were together. Nothing could spoil this moment.