Choices

Choices
by pandorajones

*

He knew he shouldn’t be here. He had no right, no business coming here anymore. He told himself that repeatedly, even as he lifted his arm and felt his knuckles come down against her front door. Rap, rap, rap. He stood, letting the ice cold sleet sting his face and soak him through. Every muscle in his body, every nerve, every part of him wanted to be on the other side of that door. But in his head he prayed she wouldn’t answer. That she’d make the choice for him.

It was well past midnight, but soft light still shone through her curtains. There were fairy lights in her bedroom window, not proper ones but Muggle ones; red and star shaped. It made him smile. Her street was quiet tonight, but then, there was hardly anyone left here, was there? Still, a few lights were on; soft music played from across the way --an old Wizard carol Remus knew but couldn’t quite place.

She wasn’t answering.

He couldn’t say he was surprised. He shouldn’t have come. Shifting the hot plate to the other hand, he turned to go. It was only then he heard the bolt slip in the door, and that familiar creak as it opened behind him. Slowly, he turned.

And there she was. Standing in the partly open doorway, leaning up against the frame, her arms crossed in front of her. She looked ... well, as she always did. Perfect. Her hair was longer now and she’d tucked the loose ends neatly behind her ears. She wore that shabby pink tee shirt he’d seen so many times, and grey pyjama bottoms he’d never seen before; perhaps they were new?

‘Hi,’ he managed to say.

‘Hello,’ she replied in a rather cool tone.

‘Oh ... errr ... Molly ...’ He pushed the plate into her hands. ‘I was at the Burrow for Christmas dinner and Molly, well ... in case you ... Because she knows you don’t have Mrs Fuller to feed you anymore.’

Tonks nodded, running her finger around the rim and then over the wet tin foil on the top of the plate. ‘Tell Molly, thank you,’ she glanced up at him briefly, ‘but I couldn’t eat another thing today, Mum made sure of that.’

‘So ... you went to your family today?’

Tonks shook her head, still keeping her gaze on the plate. ‘No,’ she answered, ‘no, I didn’t.’

For nearly a full minute Remus searched his mind for something else to say, something that didn’t start with ‘I’m sorry ...’

Finally, she looked up, although not quite at him. ‘Come in, Remus,’ she said in the same cool, even tone she’d used earlier. ‘You’re soaking wet.’

He shouldn’t have come; he had no right to be here.

But it was too late now, he was inside. Inside and shutting the door on the cold winter night, hanging his coat on the hook and sending a drying charm its way.

Tonks disappeared into her kitchen with the plate and Remus took the opportunity to glance around her flat.

It was lovely and warm in here and quite cheerful; and why shouldn’t it be? A Christmas tree stood in the corner, decorated with tinsel, paper chains, more Muggle lights and ... popcorn?

There was a fire in the hearth and on the hearth rug, curled into a tight ball, was a small, black and white cat --Simon. A blanket was crumpled on the settee and a mug, half full of something, was on the coffee table beside a large book. He smiled softly; he had probably interrupted her reading.

‘What story were you reading?’ he called toward the kitchen.

‘The Lady of Shallot,’ came her reply. A moment later she reappeared, a steaming mug in one hand. ‘Cocoa?’ she asked handing it to him. Not really a question, that .

‘Cheers.’ He took it from her gratefully. Despite being dry now, he was still rather cold. Besides this meant she wasn’t chucking him out straight away, didn’t it?

‘Thank you, for the book.’ She smiled softly, and sunk to her usual place on the settee. ‘It was very nice of you.’

Remus slipped into the big armchair. ‘Thank you, for my present. I haven’t had the chance to open it yet, but ...’

She shrugged. ‘Hope you like it.’

That was the first thing she had said to him that didn’t sound cold. He supposed he shouldn’t nitpick her tone of voice. He deserved cold.

‘I’m sure I will,’ he replied.

There it was again. Silence.

‘So ... You didn’t see your family at all?’ he asked finally.

‘Well, I went to Mum and Dad for breakfast this morning. They’d’ve come here if I didn’t, so I had to. Mum loaded me up with food and drink, as per usual. But I didn’t do the family Christmas thing over at my Uncle’s.’

‘Why not?’

Tonks shrugged again and cast her gaze at the fire. ‘Just not in the mood, really. First year without Gran. First year ...’ she trailed off, shaking her head. ‘It’s just too much ...’

Guilt took a nice, hard shot at Remus’s stomach.

He finished the last dregs of his chocolate and set the empty mug down on the table. Tonks scrubbed her hands over her face, drew a deep breath and turned to him with a rather forced smile.

‘So how are you, Remus?’

‘I’m well,’ he lied. ‘Had a wonderful dinner at the Burrow. Everyone sends their love.’

‘How are they? How’s Harry?’

‘He’s well, all things considered.’

Tonks just nodded.

Silence fell on the room again. She stared into the flames once more, and Remus found himself just watching her, committing her to memory as he had done last time. Last time... She had been in the drawing room at Grimmauld place, when Remus had walked in. Sitting on the ugly blue sofa, sitting between Bill and Charlie. Charlie’s arm was around her shoulders, his hand in her hair; and although Remus had told her it was for the best, although he was the one that pushed her away, he could taste bitter bile in his throat and an anger rising in him.

Remus blinked and refocused on the girl sitting before him. The pretty brunette sipping wine on the settee, firelight reflected on her face, dancing through the highlights in her hair. No matter. Remus wasn’t really sure what he’d expected coming here. Nothing really. He’d just wanted to see her. After so many nights without ... just ... to spend time with her. Small comforts.

‘There’s more, if you like.’ The sound of her voice brought him back to reality. She gestured toward his now empty mug. ‘I made a whole pot.’

‘No. Thank you.’ He found himself rising to his feet. ‘I’ve a long journey tomorrow. I really should be going.’

She nodded again, standing and walking with him toward her front door. He turned to her before he reached the cloak hooks.

‘Happy Christmas, Tonks.’

‘Happy Christmas,’ she replied, gently rocking on the balls of her feet.

He knew he shouldn’t touch her. But she was close now, it was so hard not to. He could hug her, couldn’t he? It was Christmas. Just a friendly embrace? He smiled rather awkwardly and slid his arms around her. But, as soon as he’d done it, he knew it was a mistake. The smell of her hair, her skin; it was overwhelming. Her arms were around his waist, her head rested against his chest ...

It made him ache.

He couldn’t help himself. His hand slipped under the hem of her tee shirt. Fingertips brushed the warm, soft skin of her back. He tightened his embraced and she raised her head.

She eyed him suspiciously. He deserved it, he knew that, but it made it hard to look her in the face. So instead, he concentrated on the soft curve of her neck, her pale cheek, the lovely pink tone of her lips. Too much. He shut his own eyes, ran one hand around the back of her neck and kissed her. He felt her body stiffen for a moment, but just a moment and then she slid her arms around his neck, opened her mouth to him ... and he was lost. She tasted like wine and chocolate and ... just her. There was nothing he could do.

His hands slid down her back and he was vaguely aware of lifting her into his arms. But then he felt her legs around his waist, her hands in his hair, as he carried her past the Christmas tree, past sparkling tinsel and the fairy lights, to her bedroom. Her bed.

The Christmas lights she’d hung in the window twinkled over them. She knelt on the bed in front of him and pulled her tee shirt over her head. His eyes swept her body, up to her face. The look on her face stabbed at his heart ... Like she was afraid, afraid he’d turn away. He should turn away.

Should, but couldn’t.

His fingers swept her sides, lightly, barely touching. His hands cupped her breasts and he felt that familiar jolt in his stomach. Like lightning. She tugged at the hem of his jumper and he obediently pulled it and his shirt over his head, letting them fall to the floor at his feet. Her hands slid up his chest, sending shivers down his spine. She clasped his hands in hers and pulled him down with her to the mattress.

A jumble of mouths and hands; kisses and caresses. Her lips on his neck, his ear. The sheer thrill of feeling her against his chest. Her body over his and then his over her.

Her hands swept up his back, over his shoulders and through his hair. Remus shut his eyes, revelling in the sensations; what if felt liked to be touched by her. Everything he missed. Everything he had tried so hard to forget. She clung to him, moved with him; skin against skin, his heart pounding in his ears. Pleasure and pain; ecstasy and torture.

*

He always loved watching her sleep and tonight, Christmas night, was no exception. God, he missed her.

She always used to tell him she loved him. She hadn’t tonight. But then, he hadn’t said it to her either.

There was too much hope in I love you.

The lights danced across her pillow, played on her face and in her hair, as he pulled his jumper back on over his head and buckled his belt. She was so beautiful. He leant over and kissed her cheek. She didn’t deserve this. Grabbing his coat he walked out of her bedroom, out of her flat, and out of her life again.

He’d made his choice.

He should never have come here.

~