Title: Moving On.

Rating: T.

Pairings: Remus/Tonks and Remus/Sirius.

Warning: Swearing and slash.

Summary: Two stories in one, because the past and the present are never really separate.

Disclaimer: Everyone and everything that you recognise as being from the 'Harry Potter'books belongs to J.K. Rowling, who is definitely not me.

Summer, 1996.

It's a bright Summer's day, around lunch-time, and a young woman is walking down a street in one of the poorer parts of a large town.

She's in her twenties, dark-haired, with a pale, heart-shaped face that looks slightly tired and drawn. She's carrying a large picnic basket. The street is narrow, and consists of two facing rows of old-looking terraced houses. As she walks, the woman is looking at the doors of the houses, watching them count down. When she reaches number 31, she stops and knocks on the door.

There's no answer, so she knocks again, harder.

"Remus!" she calls through the letterbox, in a clear, ringing voice. "Remus, I know you're there. Kingsley told me where you live, and I'm not leaving until I've seen you."

The silence continues for a few moments, and as she lifts her hand to knock again, the door opens.

The man who opens the door stands slightly stooped, as if bowed under a heavy burden. His brown hair is liberally specked with grey, and his eyes are surrounded by lines. The lower half of his face is covered in stubble. His clothes are old, loose and unwashed.

"Afternoon, Tonks," he says in a voice that's almost a croak.

"Wotcher, Remus," she replies, uncertain as to how to proceed.

"Well, you've seen me," says Remus. "So you can leave."

Tonks holds up her basket. "But I've brought food. Don't tell me you don't need it because I can tell you're not eating properly. You look worn out."

He sighs, shrugs, and returns into his house. Tonks follows him, shutting the door behind her. On entering the living room, she pulls a slight face. Remus sees it.

"Don't start," he says. "I haven't exactly been in the mood to clean up."

"That's understandable. But we should clean it up now. This has gone on for long enough."

He turns to her, slightly aghast. "In your mind, is two weeks the maximum grieving time a person's allowed?"

"No," replies Tonks in a level voice. "But it's the longest a person should be allowed to neglect themselves like this. Now, do you know any cleaning spells? I know a few but they never seem to work properly."

Remus picks up his wand from the sofa, concentrates, and mutters a spell. The room becomes instantly clean and tidy, everything returned to its proper place.

"Excellent," says Tonks, striding to the window. She pulls apart the curtains and pushes open the window, allowing the soft sunlight in. "That's better, this place needs a bit of fresh air. Now, sit down and open that basket."

Remus follows her instructions and begins to eat one of a large pile of sandwiches. "How come you've come?" he asks. "You don't strike me as the type of person who looks after people."

Tonks shrugs, non-commital, and sits down. "I suppose we've got something in common now, haven't we? I lost him, too."

Remus pales, looking away from her.

"I know it's not the same," she continues. "He was only my second cousin and we only really knew each other for a few months, but I felt like we had something in common -"

"- he told me once, that you were one of the few people in his family who resembled him at all, personality-wise." Remus's voice is shaking. "So he felt it too, that something."

Tonks gently places her hand on top of his. "I know he was your best friend, but you have to keep living. He wouldn't want you to be hidden away like this -"

"- like he was?"

"Exactly. He knew exactly how horrible it is to be shut away in a house with nothing but your thoughts. He would never want you to know how it felt."

"He was the only person I had left, Tonks." Remus looks distraught.

"He wasn't. I know he was the most important, but there are lots of people who care for you. This past fortnight, the whole Order's been worried. We know how much he meant to you -"

"- you don't."

Tonks sighs, and squeezes his hand. "You're not alone, Remus. Let me help you. Let us all help you. You don't need to cope with this grief by yourself."

She digs into the picnic basket and retrieves a flask. She pours out a cup full of hot tea. "My dad always says tea's the answer to every problem," she says, handing him the cup. "So I always bring some when I'm visiting a friend in need."

He forces a small smile and sips the tea. "If you were really like Sirius, you'd have put firewhiskey in this."

Tonks shrugs. "I never said I was him. Just that I felt his absence too."

"It's probably just as well. I'm not good with firewhiskey. Other alcohol, I manage fine, but firewhiskey usually makes me act a bit strangely. Sirius says-" he breaks off, shakes his head, and lifts the cup back to his mouth with trembling hands.

Tonks's heart aches for the man she's sitting beside. He looks so old, so tired, so defeated. She hasn't known him long - less than a year - and all that time he's looked a little strained, a little under pressure. But it was nothing compared the way he looks now, and she remembers clearly how Remus changed when he was around her own second cousin. She remembers the light that glowed from his deep brown eyes. She remembers his smile, and wishes that she knew how to induce it. Not the polite smile that he always gave everyone, but the real, sincere smile that always made Sirius look like he'd found out how to turn the sun on.

She doesn't want to replace Sirius - and she knows she couldn't, even if she wanted to - but it's not enough to be related to him, it's not enough to be like him in some small ways. If she's going to get Remus through this then she needs to make him feel like Sirius made him feel. She needs to show him that happiness didn't die with his friend. But it's a tough prospect. How can she compete with a friendship that began before she was born?

Tonks looks at Remus and she wants to save him. She's never really felt like that before. But she looks at his old-looking, haggard face, and wishes, more than anything, that she knew how to light it up.

"You're not to worry about anything," she says. "There's loads of food in the basket, and some drink too, and it's all for you. I'm going to stay here this afternoon for as long as you want me, and I'm going to come back tomorrow, too. And every day for as long as I think I need to. You don't need to worry anymore, Remus. I'm going to help you."

He looks at her with a slightly shell-shocked air. "Why are you doing this?"

"Sirius was my favourite second cousin. And you were Sirius's best friend. I owe it to him to look out for you. And I'm your friend. I don't know if you've noticed, but I've been trying to be friendly to you for months. I want to help. We're going to get through this together, you don't need to do it alone."

"Thank you," he says. "If you're really sure."

For answer, she wraps her arms around him gently.

He holds on tight, holds on to her human warmth and simple kindness. He holds on to her like a dying man, clinging to his only hope for salvation.

"We'll get through it," murmurs Tonks. "You don't have to lock yourself away. I'm here to help you."

His only answer is to hold her tighter.