Ripping Wings Off Butterflies3

Tonks was royally pissed off.

All she had wanted was to be left in peace. Was that really too much to ask? A quiet life, just her and her memories and things that, now, would never be. But no.

Experimentally, she tried nudging the prone form of Severus Snape with her foot. No reaction. He had a pulse, and he was breathing, but that seemed to be all he felt like doing just this moment.

Tonks was no doctor, but she doubted there was any way he could have fallen that far without some injury at least. There was something… odd, about his posture on the pavement that made her think of broken bones- a puppet with no strings did spring to mind. She sighed. If he had been alright, then she could have happily walked off and left him to recover consciousness in his own time. As it was, her conscience wouldn't permit it.

She glanced up and down the street. The shops were shut, not a person in sight- the bearded man had locked the door and was pretending to be deaf no matter how much she banged on the shutters, so that was out. She was unsteady enough from the booze that she didn't trust herself to apparate. And attempting a healing spell was such a bad idea she didn't even consider it.

There was no way she was taking him back to the school herself. No, Definitely not, What exactly she was doing carrying a drunken Snape into Hogwarts in the middle of the night was just not a conversation she wanted to have right now.

Of course, she could try sending a patronus with a message to Minerva. How much could go wrong with that spell, really? When it came down to it?

Plus, if she sent a patronus, she wouldn't have to wait around. She could just leave it to Minerva to look after Greasy Git over there. Yes. That was definitely an upside to that plan.

So. Something happy. Think of something happy, Tonks.

It was harder than it used to be. Damn Snape to all nine hells for making her shuffle through the taped up boxes of her psyche.

Something happy. Her wand wavered in midair as her hand began to shake. Think of something happy.

Remus blossomed into her mind, the image of him before he marched off to die. Tousle haired, greying, his tawny eyes warm even through his concern.  His hands on her shoulders, his lips brushing the skin of her forehead.

A stream of light tentatively emerged from the tip of her wand, faint and shimmering; her mind flooded with pictures of Remus, rushing over her like a waterfall- sad Remus, joyful Remus, laughing Remus. A thousand Remus Lupins, and all of them were hers.

The light intensified, grew into a flickering flame; then, with a surge of power that made Tonks weak at the knees, it formed the shape of a huge wolf with a scarred muzzle, shining brighter than the moon. And looking at her with Remus's eyes, through a beasts face. So long since she'd seen those eyes…

Tonks's concentration waved, and the stream of light flickered, and then went out. The wolf stood still for a moment, bizarrely out of place in the street, and then turned and loped away in the direction of Hogwarts. Eventually, even the after image of it's glow faded.

Tonks felt the sobs struggling up her throat, and gave into them; she had no fight left in her. They wracked through her skinny frame as though they threatened to tear her to pieces, and sounded far too loud on the silent street; Tonks didn't care. She felt like she could never care again.

Her cries left her feeling curiously hollow, as if all emotion had left in her stream of tears. She found she was curled up into a tight ball of the pavement, hands clasped behind her neck. Muscles still, as though she'd been running instead of crying, Tonks slowly began to unwind herself, and realised she was curled up in the crook of Snape's arm, weirdly outstretched from the fall. Not touching, but close enough that she felt uncomfortable.

Hurriedly, Tonks scrambled up and used the wall to claw herself upright. She had no idea how long ago it had been that Remu- the patronus, had left. She hadn't given it a message to carry, would Minerva would recognise it in a second when it appeared and, hopefully, follow it back to Snape,

Tonks brushed dirt from her robes, looking down as she did so- and then crying out in shock. Snape's onyx eyes were open, studying her with an unreadable expression. Tonks thought it might have been disgust. How long had he been conscious? Not long enough to witness her crying fit, surely? She felt her cheeks reddening at the thought of it.

"So you're not dead." She said brusquely, to cover her embarrassment.

Marginally, Snape shook his head.

"What a pity." Was that a nod? Probably.

"You injured?" she tried to make it clear from her tone that this would be a good thing. Again, that tiny nod.
"How badly?" asked Tonks, striving to sound hopeful.
"I think my pelvis is damaged." He said in a small, matter of fact voice. "At least one rib broken. Several more cracked. Possible damage to the vertebrae."
"Oh, good." Said Tonks. It was hard to be cruel when what she really wanted was to curl up and start crying again.

No. What she really wanted was her life back.