Sensitivity

Prologue: Ending the Mistake

Late June 1996

King's Cross Station

"Poor kid," Tonks sympathized as she watched Harry walk into the distance flanked by his dreadful aunt and uncle. When he disappeared from sight, she reached eagerly for Remus' hand. To her surprise, he drew back and shook his head, a frown marring his already drawn features.

"This must stop." He spoke so softly she could barely make out his words, which were short and precise, cutting her like a knife.

She turned quickly to look at him, making sure she had heard and understood correctly, but his face was impassive as he gazed at the ground, avidly avoiding her eyes.

"You can't mean-" she started to protest, but he cut her off sharply.

"Yes, I can." Then more gently, though his words were bitter with regret, he said, "I'm too old to start something new, especially with someone as young as yourself. I don't have enough money to support myself, let alone take care of you."

"It's a bit late for 'not starting something', but, Remus, I have a job, and you aren't really old. Besides," she forced a smile, "those things are too petty to bring us down."

He continued as if she hadn't spoken. "Also, you may have forgotten, Nymphadora, but I am a werewolf, dangerous-"

"Why the hell would that matter any more now than before?" She couldn't help the outburst. Anger was beginning to well up inside her, but she was vaguely aware of their location and held it down as best she could. A large, muggle train station was not a choice place for her to lose her temper. She began again, "I just thought- "

"You just thought that because you'd changed your mind, I'd changed mine. But I haven't."

"Well it certainly seemed..."

"That was a mistake." He met her gaze solemnly.

She swallowed hard, her eyes not leaving his, then asked, "Do you regret it?"

"Yes." He was looking at his shoes again.

"You're a terrible liar."

"Alright. It was wonderful," he conceded. "You're wonderful. But that doesn't mean it wasn't a mistake."He sounded pained, but she couldn't tell for certain because he wouldn't look up at her. And, suddenly, that galled her. He didn't even have the courage to meet her eyes as he ended it.

"Look at me you sodding moron! Look at me when you break up with me! Tell me to my face!"

**********

Remus knew she was about to lose control, and, thinking quickly, he drew her into a deserted lavatory, sealing the door shut behind them with a flick of his wand. She struggled against him, the fist on her free arm flying and occasionally socking him in the chest.

"Let me go." He obeyed. She backed as far from him as she could considering the size of the room, panting hard, whether from anger or exertion, he couldn't tell. Understanding her rage, he decided not to say anything more until she finished venting.

"I can't believe you're doing this! We've spent a year trying to sort this out and when we've finally admitted our feelings, finally acted on those feelings, then you decide it's time to shut me out. Your best friend died, and you spent days wallowing in self-pity, until you realized you still had this. And now you want to throw out the only thing you have left just because you feel old?!" She stopped shouting to catch her breath.

Her words cut deep into wounds that were not yet healed, but he had expected them, and so he was able to respond calmly, "I'm not shutting you out. We can still be friends. We just can't have this."

She snorted with disbelief. "We can't be friends because we do have 'this.'"

"We've been friends for a year now."

"That was different." She was right: it had been different. He didn't answer, but looked stoically at the wall beyond her. Tears were beginning to pour down her face, and he felt terribly guilty for being the cause of her anguish.

"I'm sorry, Nymphadora," he said soothingly, not trusting himself to touch her, even in comfort. "You simply deserve more than I can offer you."

"It doesn't matter," she sobbed, shaking her head. "None of it matters. I want you." He noticed that her hair was no longer pink, but sad, mousy brown.

"No," he denied softly, turning to leave. If he stayed much longer, she'd be in his arms again and they both knew it.

He heard Tonks whimper as he touched the doorknob with his wand, unlocking it, and he turned back to look at her. She hadn't moved. His throat was dry and his eyes stung. "I'll see you around." And he walked out.