She understood his reservations, she really did. Nympadora Tonks knew how her boyfriend’s mind worked even without having to be a werewolf herself. And she had spoken to a few, more in hiding than he was, behind his back; since he wasn’t a part of any pack, she could sleep safe that he would never know the danger she’d put herself in for him. She could understand exactly why he didn’t want to get close to her and why, though it was so clear to anyone else that they were both in love, why he was so aloof and distant and tried to push her away just as often as he was the sweetest man alive and the person she wanted to spend her life with. She just couldn’t accept it.

Other people had told her what Remus had been like once. How he’d been scholarly, but fun. Calm, quiet, friendly, a shoulder for anyone to cry on, but also just as eager to get up to mischief as Sirius and James had been, and every bit as much a rebel. Even after he’d been bitten, he’d apparently perked right up, glad that he was able to spend time with his friends and that as animagi, they were in no major danger themselves so long as they were careful. It was after he hurt someone else that he became distant and paranoid, and the death of James didn’t help.

But Tonks, Sirius had sworn, had brought him out of the pit – she was sure teaching at Hogwarts and meeting Harry as more than a baby had helped, too – and made him who he used to be. Until he let himself dwell on things, and that was when their relationship had started to slowly slip apart.

She didn’t say fall apart. They were still together, and she didn’t think Remus was going to break up with her. It was more like he wanted to put her up on a shelf, with some pillows tied to her in case she fell over in any direction and maybe some sort of floatation device around her waist. Instead of flowers, or chocolates, or kisses, he took to buying her arnica in case he bruised her in bed, or came home too early on the full moon. He stocked the medicine cabinet with herbal muggle remedies and magical medicines alike, and enough plasters that she had opened it one day and gotten a cut on the head from a falling paper box, but never by his hand. He didn’t seem to realise that.

Their anniversary was the last straw, and when she finally put her foot down. On her birthday, he’d been his usual self again, and it had been one of the happiest days of her life. He’d taken her out for dinner, and he’d bought her a present, a beautiful necklace that – in a rare stroke of acknowledgement for him – was embedded with a moonstone and a T for Tonks. She wore it whenever she dared, scared to scratch it. But on their anniversary he’d handed her a bouquet of plastic flowers and a hastily-written card, with only his name signed in ink and a smudge where his thumb must have brushed against the quill. He’d disappeared into their room, recognizing the date and refusing to be a part of it beyond the civilities, and they’d made love by the textbook instead of from their hearts.

She knew that he loved her, and that he had it in him to be who he was, and who she fell in love with. Damned if she was going to accept that the romance was dead between them. The next day she woke up when he did, catching him before he went out to work (a muggle paper-pushing job, because he hated to be dependent on her auror’s pay and make her do all the work) and doing her best to pin him to the bed. He was far stronger and he laughed away her effort, until he noticed the tears rolling down her face, the real strain in her arms.

As Tonks gave in, and fell against him, Remus caught her and pulled her tight against him, holding her in his arms and planting soft kisses to any part of her body that he could reach, desperate to find out what was wrong. She choked and sobbed out every accusation, begging for him to tell her that she was wrong, and he took it all. Tonks felt as though he should be bruising from all the abuse that she was giving him, and her throat was rare before she had finished. He was a damn idiot, and he was breaking her heart too, and he wanted him to know it.

Remus didn’t go to work. He stayed with Tonks all day and all night. They cried. They kissed. They fought. They made love, and did it right. They stayed in each other’s arms, and when she was finally ready to sleep, Remus read Tonks a story, stroking her hair and just making her laugh. By the end of it, their romance was far from dead. All it needed was a little resuscitation.