The Last Time

He found himself back at the house. It was hardly a surprise, really, that he was here again, feeling that same internal struggle. It was wrong. It just was. There was no denying it, no way around it.

And yet, here he was, again. The magnetic pull of her had somehow guided him back.

It wasn't the first time. It took both hands, now, to count how many times he had walked away from here, from her, and found himself walking back. The first time he had finally given to his wants and kissed her, he ran, literally ran, and stayed away from her for a full week. That kiss, the feel of her, the taste of her, had haunted every waking moment of that week.

Two days after he married her, he had disappeared in the morning without a goodbye, or a note, or any indication of where he was going or when he would be back. When he returned, at close to midnight, they both pretended not to know that he had left with every intention of never coming back. Saving her, he had thought of it, from the shame of a werewolf husband.

And yet, he hadn't managed to even stay away for the night, that time.

He looked over the dark windows, trying to picture her, inside. It was late, now, a little after 2 in the morning. She would be sleeping, most likely. She had, when he left, been exhausted, their baby sapping all her energy. He could picture her; the way she slept, sprawled out, arms and legs flung at odd angles. He used to like going to bed after her, sliding in beside her and finding a way to curl around her soft, warm body. Sometimes he would lay awake for a while, his gaze tracing the shape of her, memorising the lines of her face. The first time he had seen her, he had been struck by her face. She wasn't beautiful, not in the classic sense. She might not even be described as pretty. But there was something interesting and captivating about her face. It had haunted him for a long time before he'd given in to that first kiss.

He saw the small ripple of movement at one of the windows that told him she had realised he was here. He realised he had moved forward, laid a hand on the gate, and one of her protective enchantments must have alerted her to his presence.

She came outside. He felt a fleeting annoyance that she had done so – coming outside, alone, in the middle of the night was careless – but it was quickly chased by the thrill of seeing her. He'd missed her. He'd been gone only a few days, but he'd missed her so intently. She was wearing a thin, dark blue dressing gown, and fluffy orange slippers. Her hair was bright pink, falling halfway down her back in curls. She looked a little ridiculous.

She looked like home.

And she had her wand on him.

"It's me." He said as she moved slowly closer, though he knew she would have seen him clearly enough.

"It can't be." She said calmly. "Remus Lupin left this house assuring me he would never return. You must be an imposter."

She knew, he mused, she bloody well knew who he was. "Dora. It's me. You know it's me. I'm sorry."

She jabbed her wand at him. "And the last words Remus Lupin said to me were?"

He met her gaze evenly. He didn't wince, or cringe, or try to avoid it. She respected that.

"I said, 'I love you, but I'm leaving. Love isn't enough. I can't do this to you anymore.' I said, 'nothing you could do or say would bring me back this time'."

"And yet here you are." There was a bite to her voice, and someone who didn't know her as well as he did might have assumed she was simply furious.

He saw the hurt under the anger, and hated himself for causing her that.

"Yes. I am sorry. I know you don't care. Apologies mean nothing to you now. You've heard this one too many times."

"Why are you here?" She demanded, and he thought, for a moment, that he saw tears glimmer in her eyes. "Why did you come back?"

"I don't know. I can't stay away from you, Dora. I never have been able to. Something always pulls me back."

She looked back at him, her face unreadable.

"Can we go inside?" He asked finally, breaking the long silence. "It's not safe."

She didn't reply, but turned and stepped back into the house. He hurried after her.

She curled up in a chair, and he lowered himself onto the sofa. He hesitated, trying to find the words, not even sure what he wanted to say.

"You can't keep doing this." She told him wearily. "This back and forth. I can't keep up any more. You want me, then you don't."

"I always wanted you. From the first moment."

"Either way. You're here. Then you're not. Then you're back. Do you know what it does to me when you walk out?"

"It hurts you." He said miserably. He was realising, for the first time, that he had expected her to simply allow him back, to forgive him again - and that, he knew, was not what he had deserved after abandoning her while she carried his child.

"It breaks me. You break me, Remus, every time you walk out of the door. I can't keep letting you do that. It's no way for a child to grow up. It's no way for me to live."

"I know. It won't happen again."

"I've heard that before." She reminded him. "I know I'm partly to blame. I've been weak. I've let you keep doing it. Back and forth. My mother kept telling me, it wasn't healthy, to make you decide, one way or the other, but I was always scared that if I made you choose, I wouldn't like your choice. Then you married me. I thought that was it. I thought that was my answer. But you left again."

He opened his mouth to apologise again, then closed it. She didn't need or want his apologies.

"I have to be stronger now." She said softly, resting her hand on her stomach, where his child grew.

"This is the last time." He said, deeply afraid that he had finally gone too far. "I promise, Dora, I promise, I won't hurt you again."

"You said that before." Her voice broke, just a little. "When you asked me to marry you, you said that, but then I watched you leave again."

"This is the last time." He repeated. Without thinking about it, overtaken by sheer desperation, he found himself knelt before her, clutching her hands in his. "This is it. Forget the past, forget everything I've done. One last chance."

"The last time." She repeated, sighing a little and gripping his hands back. "This is the last time, Remus, that I sit here and ask you why, and listen to your apologies. This is the last time I let you back in the door."

"I won't hurt you anymore. I swear it, Dora. I promised my life to you, and I meant it. I'll stay with you, until I die. It's you and me, and the baby. Forever."