Tonks/Remus

My Moon

His scars.

The scars that seemed to be tainted as hideous, but added up to the perfection of the man who beheld them, chasing the sins of pain and courage and uplifting the honor of time and hope. Many a tear have softly fallen onto the soft pink flesh that represents this wound; salt water tasting the skin of replacement – building a structure vowed to hold up against death itself.

In the eyes of the silvery moon against the blanket of pure judgment seen as night, a sheath of stars serving as its comrades, sits a lost soul. How his pale blue irises seem to twinkle like a halo in the midst of his lover, who seems to change in appearance so frequently, yet remains ever so the same in the eyes of a hidden man.

Hidden, because of others and their thoughts; their malicious minds streaking past our mingled hearts, trying to tear apart the stitches that bind us as one.

I cling to him; the touch of rough fabric nestles across my cold cheek, comforting me with the familiar, grey wool. His limbs are weak from nights of relentless insomnia, but the aura of strength lingers around his tired face.

And I love him all the same.

I bury myself into his jacket, my nose pressed up against his covered chest. Scents of bark and damp earth surround me, and I embrace it, clinging to my love as if we were made of nothing but paper hearts, threatened to drift away as segments in the wind.

But always together.

I dangle my fingers down to his right hand, the skin rough and scratchy. Gently, I rub my thumb in circles around the center space of his palm. It is as if I know every pattern of his body like contemplations in my mind. Every path, every beginning, each end and the one secret that could initially spread harm like a disease through our love for each other.

Yet my love conquers the very fear of death as strongly as a flame is snuffed out from a melting candle; the predator cowering behind the light shadow of my emotions, cringing behind every soft kiss upon his ragged lips, shaking with fear after each appreciated, heart-felt glance between two pairs of knowing eyes, until finally dissolving into an abyss of loneliness as we, together, accomplish the one thing many are stranded for thoughts on.

Freedom.

My beautiful husband and I, free to enjoy the remnants of life without doubt or confusion. The blocks we stumble across light our way towards a greater future, if not handled with an amount of willed force.

He looks down at me, smiling. Even after all these years, the faded laugh lines creased in the corners of his haunted eyes still manage to show.

I step back from the hug; my hand still forever aligned with his, watching every movement of his face.

“I love you,” I say, quietly. Around us is nothing but peace; rows of dusty books sit on crooked oaken shelves, dull oranges and reds peeking out from the dim lamp lights, casting two, synced shadows to form on the timeworn navy walls.

“Sometimes, I think you underestimate,” he pauses, taking my slim waist in his hands and lifting me up onto the top of a small bookshelf. I hang my feet down, tickling his shoulders lightly. The lamp behind me delicately illuminates his haggard features.

“How much I love you.” He stands up straight, and I lean down to him, placing my forehead against his. Strands of my coloured hair fall to his thin eyebrows. He tucks it back behind my ear, cupping my jaw in his hand.

I kiss him once on the nose, slowly. I can feel the bump where it had broken years ago, and use my kiss to heal him in thoughts of comfort.

He looks at me with wonder, trying to comprehend how he managed to find the missing half of his life, pondering how it is possible to contain the feelings of compassion and trust into one singular person.

His eyebrows fold down to his curved nose in thought.

“What?” I mumble softly, trying not to disturb this moment of forever burrowing between us.

“I will never leave you,” he says, lifting me off the shelf and into his arms, cradling me like a small child. I laugh from the sudden impact, the sound dancing off the old walls like chimes.

“I know,” I say, still giggling. His face turns serious, the laugh lines falling away.

“No, really. I will never leave you. Not even in times of great peril.”

I set myself down to the ground, my heavy black boots colliding with the aging wood.

“I think you underestimate me sometimes, my love.” I wrap my hands around his neck, still peering into those strange, soft eyes.

“I would die for you,” I say.

“No,” he replies softly.

“I would never rest if you died for me, my dear. I would, however, manage to believe that you living for me would be one of the greatest favours of all.”

I can feel the prick of tears behind my eyes; a wall of glistening water ready to run down my face at the moment of pure happiness. This space between me and my one and truly love seems like the distance between the heat of Egypt to the crypts of hidden coves buried in the deepest of oceans. Both forever remaining a mystery, sharing a secret unknown to human kind. A secret held in the hands of two innocents, a message repeating in their minds like a word of trust and loyalty, forever spoken between two beating hearts merging as one.

“You are mine.” I whisper.

My darling. My divine creature. My moon.

My Remus.