Tonks had been lucky. For once, Remus was actually in Grimmauld Place, a rare occurrence given his tendency to vanish for days on end, especially around the full moon. She found him sitting with Sirius in the dimly lit drawing room, both of them deep in conversation over mugs of steaming tea, the air thick with the scent of old books and brewing potions. Sirius, ever perceptive, was the first to notice her, his head snapping up, a mischievous glint in his eye as he raised an eyebrow and grinned.
"Well, if it isn't our favorite Nympy," he said with a lopsided smirk, his voice dripping with playful insinuation. "Come to join us for a spot of tea, or to steal Moony away for some nefarious purpose?"
Tonks didn't bother with banter, her expression serious, her hair a determined shade of red. "Actually… I need to talk to Remus. Alone. It's important."
Sirius's smirk faded into a knowing look, a flicker of understanding passing through his eyes. He recognized the tone, the set of her jaw, the barely suppressed fire in her gaze. "Right," he said, setting his mug down with a soft clink. "I'll go check on Buckbeak. Again. He's probably plotting to redecorate the garden with gnomes." He gave Remus a firm, pointed pat on the shoulder as he passed, murmuring, "Don't screw it up, Moony. You only get so many chances, especially with a witch like her."
Remus looked confused, his brow furrowed, but obediently followed Tonks as she led him into one of the unused, dust-sheeted bedrooms on the ground floor. The air was stale, heavy with the scent of disuse and ancient magic. She closed the door sharply behind him, the latch clicking with a decisive finality that echoed in the quiet room.
"What's this about, Dora?" he asked, his voice soft, almost hesitant, as if already anticipating an unpleasant conversation.
"You know what this is about, Remus Lupin," Tonks said, stepping closer, crowding his space, her eyes fixed on his, demanding honesty. "Me. You. Us. This ridiculous back-and-forth game we've been playing, this constant push and pull."
Remus blinked, his eyes wide with feigned innocence. "Tonks, I don't understand what you're talking about—"
"No. Don't play dumb with me, Remus. I'm done with it," she snapped, her voice sharp, cutting through his pretense. "You know I've been trying, I've been open, I've made my feelings clear. You have to have realized that I was coming onto you. So why is it that you engage me, you flirt, you're warm, then when I push forward, you push me back and create distance between us? I'm tired of playing this game, Remus. I'm tired of trying to decode your mixed signals, your subtle hints, and your sudden disappearances. I want an answer, a real one. I want to be with you. Do you want the same, or not?"
Remus struggled to come up with an answer at first, his jaw working, his gaze darting around the room, avoiding her eyes. He opened his mouth again, then closed it. His expression tightened, a familiar pain blooming in his eyes, a shadow passing over his face. "It's not that simple, Dora. You don't understand what I'm going through, what this curse means. This curse… it would not allow me to be happy, it would only bring you sorrow."
Tonks snapped at him, her patience at its end. "It is simple, Remus! It's a yes or no question, so why are you making it so incredibly difficult? Why do you always complicate everything?"
His jaw clenched, a muscle twitching in his cheek. He looked away, his gaze fixed on a dusty corner of the room. "Because I'm a werewolf, Tonks. Because this curse—"
"—isn't killing you if you say yes," she cut in fiercely, stepping closer, her voice unwavering, infused with a raw passion. "I know what you are, Remus. I accepted it long ago. I've known about your condition for so long, and it changes nothing about how I feel. It's my choice if I want to be with you, not some curses. Your lycanthropy doesn't define you, and it certainly doesn't dictate my feelings or my life. So why are you making it seem like a werewolf can't love, can't have happiness? I like you, Remus. So the question is: do you feel the same, or not?"
He tried to give another excuse, another reason to push her away, but she cut him off again, her voice steely, resolute, leaving no room for equivocation. "Will you go out with me, Remus Lupin, will you try to build something with me, or not? This is the final time I'm asking."
Silence.
A long, awful pause stretched between them, heavy with unspoken truths and shattered hopes. Remus's shoulders slumped, his gaze still averted, his face etched with a profound, self-inflicted misery. He looked utterly defeated, not by her, but by his own demons.
Then, "I'm sorry, Dora. I can't." His voice was barely a whisper, broken, but firm in its refusal, laced with a deep, weary resignation.
Tonks stared at him, eyes wide with disbelief, the words hitting her like a physical blow, stealing her breath. Her mouth opened, but no words came, her mind reeling, unable to comprehend his rejection, the sheer, senseless cruelty of it.
Her hair flickered through a rapid succession of angry, despairing colors—shocking yellow, heartbroken blue, then a furious, incandescent red. She turned on her heel, a raw, wounded sound escaping her throat, stormed to the door, and flung it open so hard it bounced off the wall with a resounding thwack. As she stomped down the hall, her footsteps heavy and furious, making a beeline for the main house door, she passed Sirius, who poked his head out from the kitchen, a worried frown on his face.
"Whoa, what happened—?" he began, but Tonks brushed past him without a word, her hair a furious crimson, her eyes blazing with unshed tears. She didn't stop until she had burst through the main house door, leaving Grimmauld Place behind, the sound of the door slamming shut echoing through the quiet house.
Moments later, Remus emerged from the bedroom, his expression tight, his face pale and drawn, looking utterly miserable, his eyes haunted. Sirius stared at him, his own face hardening with dawning understanding and a surge of protective anger.
"What the hell did you say to her, Moony?!" Sirius demanded, his voice low and dangerous, his fists clenching.
Remus didn't answer, merely shaking his head, his gaze fixed on the empty doorway where Tonks had vanished. He just turned and walked away, retreating into the shadows of the house, leaving Sirius alone in the hallway, the unspoken truth of his cowardice hanging in the air.
Sirius cursed under his breath, a string of colourful expletives, then slammed his fist against the wall, a dull thud echoing through the house. "You bloody idiot, Remus! You absolute fool!"
Back at Hogwarts, after the classes were over for the day, the usual chaotic exodus of students filled the corridors. Harry barely had time to settle his bag before Ron and Hermione ambushed him, their faces a mixture of profound relief and stern disapproval. They grabbed him by the arms, dragging him into an empty classroom, away from prying eyes and the bustling noise.
Hermione locked and sealed the door with a flick of her wand, a series of intricate clicks and hums indicating the powerful privacy charms she was casting. She turned around, arms crossed, her foot tapping impatiently, her eyes narrowed. "Alright, Harry Potter. No more games. Where have you been? And don't you dare give us that ridiculous library spell nonsense again. We're not Professor McGonagall."
"What do you mean, Hermione?" Harry replied with faux confusion, his eyes wide and innocent, a perfect mimicry of his earlier performance. "I've been here since this morning, in class, just like I told Professor McGonagall. I even answered her question, you know."
"Cut the act, Harry," Ron said, his voice unusually firm, his arms also crossed, his face red with frustration. "You weren't here. We checked. Dobby wouldn't say anything, and Umbridge has been tearing her hair out. Don't lie to us, Harry. We're your friends."
Harry chuckled, a genuine, unburdened sound, then snorted. "Come on, you two. You should have seen the looks on your faces. Hilarious." He sighed, seeing the unwavering disbelief in their eyes.
He considered what he wanted to tell them. He could lie, make up something sure, another elaborate story, a plausible cover-up. But did he really want to? He didn't really need to hide who or what he was anymore.
Before, it was because he didn't want Voldemort either pulling a classic villain trump card by revealing his powers or just plain running and hiding with his horcruxes, making them impossible to find. But now that he had nearly everything except for the ring and the snake, and he had very specific plans for those, especially the ring… he didn't really need to hide his power from his friends.
Honestly, part of the reason he hadn't told them before was because he was still angry with them, angry at their complicity in Dumbledore's manipulations, angry at their blind trust in a system that had failed him.
But that anger had faded. He decided to tell them, but not here, not now.
"Okay, okay. Fine. You got me," he said, raising his hands in surrender. "I was out... dealing with something. Something important, something dangerous." He paused. "I'll tell you," he said at last, his voice serious, meeting their gazes directly. "Just not now. Not like this. This isn't the place for it, and it's not just for your ears."
Ron groaned, running a hand through his red hair, exasperated. "Seriously, Harry? More secrets?"
"I know," Harry said, a small, genuine smile touching his lips. " I'll gather everyone—Ginny, the twins, maybe even Luna, Neville. I'll explain it once, properly, to everyone. It's a lot to take in, and I want to make sure everyone hears it directly from me. Fair?"
Hermione studied his face, searching for any hint of deception, any lingering lie. Finally, she nodded, a flicker of relief easing her tense shoulders. "Alright, Harry. But you better not vanish again. And this better be a very good explanation."
As they exited the classroom, the privacy charms dissipating, and turned the corner, Harry, still slightly preoccupied with his thoughts, his mind already planning the upcoming revelation, smacked directly into someone.
Someone soft.
Someone blonde.
"Oh," said Daphne Greengrass, her voice cool, brushing off her robes with an air of dignified annoyance, glaring at him with icy blue eyes that held a hint of amusement. She was not alone; she was walking with a bubbly brunette, Tracy Davis, if he remembered correctly, who was already stifling giggles.
"Again, Greengrass?" Harry said, grinning, his hand lingering on her waist where he had instinctively grabbed her to prevent her fall. "It just seems you can't keep your hands off me, can you? We keep bumping into each other."
She raised an eyebrow, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on her lips, her gaze sharp, assessing. "Potter, you're the one doing the grabbing, not me. Perhaps you're developing a habit of running into people, or perhaps you just can't seem to keep your hands to yourself."
"Maybe I just feel that you fit nicely in my arms," he countered smoothly, his grin widening, enjoying the easy, flirtatious banter, the spark between them.
She rolled her eyes, but a faint flush colored her cheeks, and she didn't step back, allowing his hand to remain for a beat longer than strictly necessary. "Where've you been, Potter? Don't give me that 'library spell' nonsense. Even I heard better excuses than what you said in class, thou It was quite the performance."
"I've been here the whole time. Why did you miss not seeing me around, Greengrass? Were the halls too dull without my presence?"
"Sure," she said dryly, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "In your dreams, Potter. I know you weren't in the castle, but it's none of my business anyway. Just a general observation."
Ron, who had been listening with increasing irritation, his face red with annoyance at the Slytherin's presence and her easy banter with Harry, butted in, his voice loud. "Yeah, it's none of your business anyway, Greengrass! Mind your own business and leave Harry alone!"
Daphne's eyes narrowed, a flash of Slytherin coldness, but she merely said, "Relax, Weasley. Just curious. Not everything revolves around your limited understanding, you know." She turned back to Harry, her expression softening slightly, a subtle shift in her demeanor. "You're an odd one, Potter. Don't go disappearing again. It causes quite a stir, even among us Slytherins."
Tracy Davis, ever the less subtle of the two, giggled, leaning in to whisper loudly enough for Harry to hear, "She missed you, Harry! She really did! She was sneaking glances for you since!"
"I was not".
Daphne turned and smacked her lightly on the arm, a playful but firm gesture, as they walked off, leaving Harry, Ron, and Hermione behind.
Harry stared after them, his eyes trailing… lower than they should have, appreciating the graceful sway of Daphne's hips as she walked away, a faint, amused smile on his face.
A pointed cough from Hermione made him snap his gaze forward, a faint blush rising to his own cheeks.
"What?" he said, straightening, feigning innocence. "It's called appreciating the view, Hermione. A man's got to have his hobbies."
Hermione rolled her eyes, a long-suffering sigh escaping her. Ron just grumbled something about "bloody snakes and their scandalous behavior."
As they walked back toward Gryffindor Tower, in the late afternoon sun casting long shadows, Harry casually said, "Let's get everyone together soon. Ginny, the twins, Luna, and Neville. I'll explain everything then."
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