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Forever Yours by PhoenixPulse
Chapter 1 : "I don't hate you, no..."
 
Rating: MatureChapter Reviews: 2


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AUTHORS NOTE:
Everything you recognize belongs to the wonderful woman named JK Rowling. The verses you find in bold italics are from the song “Savior”, by the awesome band, Rise Against. Being an RA fan, I had this urging desperation to tie in one of their songs in an HP fanfic. This song probably doesn’t fit, but I figured to go ahead and give it a shot. Hopefully you enjoy, and please, do tell me what you think. 

 

 







A marked man is forever scarred. Blemished by a curse, never healed nor ever forgotten, a specific man of interest sits alone in a living room, cradling his face in his hands. How much more he can take, risking the lives of those he loves, he does not know. His insecurities and worries buzz in his mind; and it takes two small, soft hands to pull him back from those devouring thoughts. They are the soft hands of a woman. As he allows their fingers to intertwine, however he feels a pit grow deep inside. He realizes that the hands that hold his, is one of the lives he is responsible for.

It kills me not to know this but I've all but just forgotten
What the color of her eyes were and her scars or how she got them
As the telling signs of age rain down, a single tear is dropping
Through the valleys of an aging face that this world has forgotten


The marked man looks up into the woman who kneels before him. She has eyes of the brightest indigo, searching his face hungrily, desperately channeling all his emotions away from him. He wants to stare into them forever, to never forget how brightly they shine. Her face is by far younger and more determined, soft yet enduring. She has the face of a fighter. Her vibrant hair of violet falls in front of her deep eyes, and they shoot him a look of understanding, squeezing his hands tighter. There isn’t a need to speak, for she can see right through him, and they both know it very well.

In contrast, he is an older man. His face isn’t soft, but scratched with scars that will never heal, and lines of despair and age. His hair is a soft brown, but even its life and color is fading, streaks of grey protruding from his scalp. His eyes show lack of sleep, pits of sadness coming from the depths of his pupils. He feels as if it’s his fault, as if everything is his fault, and he’s losing all he has left. Three best friends are long gone, and one he considers as better off dead. His wife is pregnant with a son. His son, and secretly he momentarily wished that they belonged to someone else, because as much as he loves them both, he could never fathom nor forgive himself for the danger he is putting them through.

You were always the selfish one, eh Remus? His conscious hissed mockingly. Always scared of what people thought of you. Always scared for the safety of others, and therefore blaming yourself, and hurting the ones you love even more in return. You’re a very selfish one indeed! Remus kicked himself mentally in his mind. He didn’t ask to be bitten. He didn’t ask for the existence of the Dark Lord. He didn’t ask for this god-forsaken war...

“Love, are you alright?” Whispered the violet haired woman he oh-so-very loved. Remus blinked, waking from his trance and found himself staring into those brilliant indigo irises once again.

“I can’t do this. Not to you. Not to the baby.” He muttered gruffly and incoherently, looking away. It was eating his heart to say the words. He loved them, he truly did—by Godric, he married her! But nothing would keep his heart at ease than to run away.

“What was that? I didn’t hear you, you were mumbling.” She replied softly, stroking his calloused thumb with hers.

“I said I can’t do this, Dora. You can’t get hurt. I can’t let you get hurt. Not with you and our baby!” He found that his voice had gone surprisingly stronger, and he forced himself to continue. Oh how much it felt like an icy knife to say it, but bottling it up inside was like a scorching flame, licking at his throat. Nymphadora opened her mouth to interrupt, but he shot her a glare, telling her to listen, because if she didn’t, he wouldn’t be able to say it at all.

“And our baby, I don’t want to know of what would become of him. Can’t you see what I’ve done? I just possibly marked an innocent child! I can’t live with the knowledge that I did that to a kid—that I passed on the monster to a child that I already love.” Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to soak in what he just said, and Tonks knelt there, eyes wide in horror of her husband’s mentality. This was perhaps the most absurd she had ever heard from her beloved’s mouth.

Remus allowed his eyelids to snap open almost instantly, his eyes flaring with a new and blazing life, irises dancing with passionate fire. As he locked his eyes onto Tonks, he found that there were tears silently streaming down her face.

“Oh must we go through this again? You aren’t a monster, Remus. You’re beautiful, and our child will be too.” She whispered, almost beseechingly for his compliance, hoping he would nod his head or simply agree; her voice unnaturally seemed to amplify as it filled the hollow room. There was a silence, and the couple was no longer holding hands with fingers interlaced. Remus closed his eyes again at the chilling silence, the sound of windows rattling seemed to have vanished now, their reverberations irrelevant to the time and space of what was happening. And as Remus basked in the painful silence, he couldn’t help but desperately want what she said was true.

There is no reconciliation that will put me in my place
And there is no time like the present to drink these draining seconds
But seldom do these words ring true when I'm constantly failing you
Like walls that we just can't break through until we disappear


“It’s going to be alright, Remus. You know it is. We all know it is, and when everything settles down, we will all be happy. Just you wait.” Nymphadora susurrated, but even her coaxing couldn’t mask the imploring desperation in her voice. She was forcing him to believe, because without that hope, then it was certain that everything would fall to pieces.

“I’m sorry, Dora, but I can’t do this.” Remus whispered back, once again opening his eyes. And standing abruptly up, he made his way to the front door, and into the billowing wind, the door slamming shut behind him. Dora closed her eyes and could faintly hear the soft ‘pop’ in the distance.

“He’ll be back.” She whispered to herself, looking into the magical picture that hung on the wall above the sofa. But as she said this, she wasn’t sure if it was of truth, or if she was just lying to herself. NO! He WILL come back. He loves you, he’s GOT to. She watched as the peculiar couple kissed and smiled at her, the violet haired witch laughing and snuggling into the older man’s shoulder. Dora wiped the tears away, faintly smiling to herself, because she knew it was true. He always did come to his senses, all he needed was a little faith to see the light of things.

“He’ll be back.”

So tell me now if this ain't love then how do we get out?
'Cause I don't know

That's when she said I don't hate you boy
I just want to save you while there's still something left to save
That's when I told her I love you girl
But I'm not the answer for the questions that you still have, oh, oh




 





Nymphadora anxiously bit her lip, looking out into the darkening sky. Only an hour ago had her husband disappeared, telling her that the fight at Hogwarts was to begin. She begged him to take her, to allow her to come, but as her overprotective mother teamed up surprisingly with her husband, she was pegged down.

There was a soft voice coming from the upper level of the house, singing a muggle lullaby about twinkling stars. The voice belonged to Dora’s mother, Andromenda, who was now widowed, and was singing a young toddler to sleep. The toddler’s name was Ted, after his deceased grandfather. Ted Remus Lupin, only Teddy was what Dora loved to call him.

Pursing her lips, Tonks was itching to walk out the door and dissaperate, but instead, she crossed her legs and pressed her lips against the rim of a warm cup of tea. In truth, the tea did not calm her nerves one bit, but instead, made her just as nervous. Her fingers tapped against her thigh, her heart pounding in her chest. She loved him, and she couldn’t fathom not ever knowing what was happening or going on. She couldn’t fathom him…

No, he’s not going to die! He’s strong! He can’t die! He needs to live! For me, for Teddy, especially Teddy! Dora thought angrily. The fact she was having mental wars to herself only fueled her desperation to get out. She wanted to fight. She wanted to be there with him. She wanted to ensure that they succeeded and prevailed, and that Teddy was to have a safe and golden future—anything for Teddy. It was then had it hit her that she knew exactly how Sirius felt, being trapped in Grimmauld place for the safety of his being and Harry’s. She understood how Sirius felt, about being pegged down when there was someone you loved out there in the face of danger. She didn’t want to sit pretty anymore.

And the time felt like forever as she stared over fretfully at the large clock that hung above the rosy, warm fireplace. A minute had then gone by, and another… Such precious time was falling through her fingertips, time she was wasting—time that he had been fighting and she still did not know what was going on.

“You really want to go, don’t you?” spoke a somber voice from the staircase. Nymphadora stood up, almost instantly, clutching her wand tightly, the fire shedding light in her renewed and determined face. Andromenda was solemnly staring at her daughter with bags of purple underneath her eyes. It was clear that she had not slept well at night, especially since the murder of her husband.

“Mum, please.” Dora whispered imploringly, her indigo eyes flashing for her mother’s understanding. She didn’t need to say more, because her mother nodded, with such great and painful reluctance. Andromenda knew what it was like, not knowing, and she more than understood the itching anxiety clawing at her daughter’s heart. She didn’t need to imagine a thing.

“Go Dora.” Andromenda whispered. Nymphadora rushed forward, new tears brimming out of her eyes, but the aging woman couldn’t tell if it was out of happiness or sadness. The young woman swiftly caressed her mother’s forehead and wrapped her arms briefly around the elder, giving her a short hug.

“Take care, mum. Give Teddy a kiss for me. I’ll be home soon.” And with that, Nymphadora was hot on her heels, swinging herself out the door, and shutting it behind her.

“Stay safe, Dora.” Andromenda whispered, letting the tears fall. It would be the first series of tears she would cry before receiving the news of her son-in-law and only daughter’s death. It was painful, and Andromenda couldn’t do a thing but wait.

And the day pressed on like crushing weights
For no man does it ever wait
Like memories of dying days that deafen us like hurricanes
Bathed in flames we held the brand, uncurled the fingers in your hand
Pressed into the flesh like sand, now do you understand?


 

 





So tell me now if this ain't love then how do we get out?
'Cause I don't know
That's when she said I don't hate you boy
I just want to save you while there's still something left to save
That's when I told her I love you girl
But I'm not the answer for the questions that you still have, oh, oh

 
 

 





Remus was running, perhaps faster than he could ever remember. The sweat that trailed from his forehead was dripping off his nose, and running down his jaw line. As the sweat raced down into his lips, he could taste the salt of his own pores. Never had he felt so alive, and yet so alert than since the days of the first Wizarding War.

Jets of light whizzed in the air as students, teachers, and Death Eaters screamed in a harmonized cacophony. This was war, and with every minute, walls were being blown apart, fires began to cascade from wands, and casualties on both sides were gracefully falling to their feet, their bodies’ disappearing under the dust and smoke.

“Not so fast Lupin. I could fancy a little duel with you.” A cold voice called out to him above the screams and shouts, and a figure descended from a bloody, marble staircase, not far ahead. Remus skidded to a halt. Even better! The Death Eaters were coming to him, which saved the job of actually hunting for them throughout the destroyed castle Hogwarts had become.

“Dolohov, I figured you would show your face eventually.” Remus called out, as if addressing to an old friend; but as welcoming as he sounded, his wand was lifted, ready to use. Dolohov snarled, his nostrils flaring at the statement. It was an insult.  To be greeted with manners was overrated—they were there to duel until one fell to his death. To Dolohov, mannerism had no place in Death’s game, and Dolohov was ready to watch this man crumble.

“Still the gentleman, aren’t we Lupin?” Dolohov heckled, lifting his wand as well. His twisted face looked sickeningly pale and bloodthirsty by the firelight. “Well, if you truly want to play with honor and integrity, then I sup— CRUCIO!” Dolohov shrieked, as Remus lunged forward with a nonverbal spell. Lupin deflected this, and scowled as he and Dolohov began to circle each other, Dolohov snarling like an awaken lion, ready to lunge at its perpetrator’s neck.

Lupin sent a spell flying towards him, but Dolohov seemed to be just as ready, and he too deflected it with a flick of his wand. At first, the spells they shot at each other was like a little warm up, slow and steady and they searched for each other’s weaknesses and studied the opponent’s movements. But the more they learned, the faster they began to move, and the more complex they waved their wands, slashing them through the air, sending violent jets and spitting sparks at the other. Their movements flowed and seemed languid if one were to stand from a distance. If they weren’t for each other’s blood, it may have seemed like a little circus act—a graceful one at the least.

Images of Nymphadora and Teddy filled Remus’ mind. He had to fight for them, and he needed to make it out alive. The thoughts of Dora’s soft lips against his and watching Teddy grow up was far more than enough for him to keep going. And keeping Dora waiting—the thought made his stomach lurch, and he pictured her sitting there alone, anticipating for his return. He needed to get out of this alive, and if Dolohov wasn’t going to loosen up soon, Remus was going to force the man down himself.

“REMUS,” Screamed a woman’s voice in the distance, sending a small jolt of bliss down his spine. But the warmth was shortly lived, as he remembered that this was war—she wasn’t supposed to be here. She was supposed to be with Teddy. Remus felt his heart tear in two. It wasn’t a mistake, she was in the castle, looking for him, and she was approaching close by, the smell of her hair lingering in his nostrils.

Dolohov caught this, and graced the aging man before him with a malicious smile. Dolohov had found Lupin’s weakness, which was the same source that was feeding him the will power to fight. It was in the werewolf’s glowing eyes, shining through his pupils, and Dolohov could see that Lupin wasn’t fully there. The werewolf’s focus was blurred by that pixie—the hair-color-changing nymph.

One thousand miles away, there's nothing left to say
But so much left that I don't know
We never had a choice, this world is too much noise
It takes me under, it takes me under once again


And Lupin was thinking of her—the woman that never gave up on him. Her name was Nymphadora, with indigo eyes and violet hair that fell on her soft and determined, heart shaped face. Her beautiful laugh and kisses softer than silk…

And somewhere in all this thinking, Dolohov found the mouse hole and seized his chance. The blasted corridor was illuminated with green light, and Remus’ eyes bulged out in surprise. Flashes of his life whirled before him, of youthful laughing boys, and a woman holding a turquoise haired baby. In his last breath he could hear a woman somewhere scream, digging a hole through his chest. It sounded like a scream a woman would make if she saw someone she loved die before her eyes. And then it hit Remus square in the face. He was dead, and he never got the chance to properly kiss her goodbye.

 

 





Tonks couldn’t remember herself screaming, and couldn’t ever recall a time she cried and howled as loud and hard as this. He couldn’t have fallen. And that light wasn’t green! Her eyes were playing tricks on her, they had to be. But as the tears fell, she realized that he wasn’t ever going to get up, never again. And he was never going to tell her he loved her ever again, or wrap his arms protectively around her at night. No, not ever again.

She felt a twist of anger ignite underneath the shock. He couldn’t hold himself for another five seconds, because if he did, they could’ve taken Dolohov down. Together. If only he stood his ground by another few seconds, it would be Dolohov that would never stand up again. Not Remus. It didn’t have to be Remus.

Nymphadora stood there for countless moments, just staring at her husband’s limp body. Her throat was starting to ache, and her heart was breaking into a million little pieces. She took it back—it was never his fault. If anything, it was hers, for not being there too soon.

I don't hate you
I don't hate you, no

So tell me now if this ain't love then how do we get out?
'Cause I don't know
That's when she said I don't hate you boy
I just want to save you while there's still something left to save
That's when I told her I love you girl
But I'm not the answer for the questions that you still have, oh, oh


Dolohov seemed to have disappeared under the foggy clouds of dust, which blurred Dora’s peripheral vision. She had hid Remus’ body somewhere in an untouched broom cupboard at the far end of the corridor, where everything seemed to be remarkably at peace. Jogging through the hallways, she managed to block Remus’ death from her mind. Grieving will come later after everything was said and done. She couldn’t afford to lose herself now, because her mother was waiting for her, and Teddy still needed her more than anything. It was Teddy however, that fueled her willing to fight and go on.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t my dirty, blood traitor of a niece!” crooned a feminine, innocent voice. It sent chills up Nymphadora’s spine, hearing her aunt call to her in such sweetness, yet with such hidden contempt and hatred. She found herself facing a dead end of grey, stone wall as the sound of stiletto heeled boots clicked on the floor.

“So, how does little Dora feel now that the mutt is gone? Does she feel hopeless that she can never get him back?” The psycho woman pressed, hissing in a sticky sweet soprano. Her diction threw Tonks over the edge, and the violet haired woman spun around, eyes blazing furiously with tears.

“Shut up, you hag!” Dora shrieked, her chest heaving up and down, new tears rolling down her face. “My husband is not a mutt. He was loyal and knew how to love, a concept I’m sure that you’ll never understand.”

Bellatrix cackled in mirth, as she continued to stride over. Taking out her wand, she toyed with it, giving it a few gentle swishes, waving it in front of Nymphadora as they stood now so close, face-to-face.

“Your filthy mutt knows a concept I don’t care for,” The heavy lidded woman whispered, smiling tauntingly as she pressed her wand tip to Nymphadora’s chest. Dora could feel herself barely breathing. Her wand was in her hand, but she made no effort to move. This was Bellatrix, and when Bellatrix caught her prey, it was rare that she would ever let them go. Besides, if she even tried to lift her wand, Bellatrix could easily command the end of her life before Dora, herself, could utter a word.

“And to be honest Nymphadora, I don’t care much for you either.” Bellatrix finished, licking her pale lips, eyes shining with pride, loathe, and eagerness.

“Then I pity you.” Nymphadora spat. “For not giving a damn to your family that you should hold dear to your black, cold heart!” Bellatrix’s eyes widened in anger and she jabbed the wand deeper into Dora’s chest, as if it would inflict more pain. Green light flashed from underneath the wand tip, and illuminated from under Tonk’s shirt. Dora gave a gasp, as if burned, and she collapsed instantly at her grim aunt’s feet.

“It’s such a shame that I actually feel a pinch of regret.” Bellatrix sniffed, and she kicked the limp body of her niece aside and strode away. The clicking of her stiletto boots fading down the corridor.

I don't hate you
I don't hate you, oh, oh
I don't hate you
I don't hate you, no, oh, oh


 
 
 




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