A/N: Written for Selemi's Different Romance challenge on the Fantastic Challenges and Where To Find Them forum. I've never written this pairing before, so I'm hoping they aren't too OOC. (Sadly, this isn't my favorite piece.) It seems fitting that my 110th fanfiction is a pairing that I've never written before. Feedback is appreciated!
Remus Lupin wasn't used to being doted upon. His parents, loving and caring as they were, focused more on making sure his werewolf side didn't cause too much pain (and they did the best they could, and he would remain forever grateful). His friends treated him like an equal, like a human who deserved respect and kindness; they appreciated his humor and his quiet determination and he appreciated that they could bring the best parts of Remus's personality out of him. Respect and kindness and appreciation and familial love were precisely the perfect kinds of attention he liked and was used to. He wasn't the center of attention at any point, but people, those who cared about him for the most part adapted to his flaws and praised his strengths when it was necessary.
But then Tonks, who hated her first name (and with reason, because Nymphadora was a mouthful and, in her own words "a name no child deserved, and no child should respond to") and who has a way with words that Remus doesn't, appeared in his life just as it was filling with more grief and unexplained, but inevitable, turmoil. Pre-war tension wasn't predictable, and it wasn't something easily explainable.
"I understand your pain," Tonks said with a sense of calm about her voice that Remus thought he'd never hear from someone so young and spirited. She understood; this was what he wanted in the world. He thanked her in the only way he could: a smile that didn't seem very convincing.
Tonks further proved that understood the sheer depth of grief whenever she read an obituary in the Daily Prophet, and how it took its emotional toll on a person because she cried openly, and without remorse. Remus wrapped his arms around her shoulders, feeling awkward but proud that he could comfort her. Her purple-tinted silver hair, and slate-blue eyes reflected her feelings. Remus swore his hair turned greyer; aging and sadness would do that do you, Remus guessed.
"Grey looks good on you, Remus," Tonks would laugh, a genuine sound that broke Remus out of lethargy. He wasn't sure how she could laugh, when everything seemed so depressing and bleak and gloomy.
"It just shows that I'm old and sad and overwhelmed with grief," Remus explained with a sigh. This was his life: perpetually sad and pathetic and without the possibility of saving.
"Grief shouldn't be placed solely on one person's shoulders, Remus," she assured Remus when she saw him sitting alone. The crack in her voice gave away her own feelings: the ones where she desired to mourn those who died and were about to die and the anxiety that preceded war, among other mixed emotions. She lost that sense of calm that he so envied. Remus couldn't blame her. Sirius Black, his best friend, fell dead within the past week and they both knew it was a tragedy.
And somehow, through a huge amount of determination Remus didn't think he'd posses, he began to feel less guilt and never-ending depression over Sirius's death. He'd probably never truly get over the death of Sirius, but Tonks helped him. She held his hand to prove that small gestures of affection were just as satisfying as large ones. Whenever Remus felt uncomfortable, Tonks would back off, but he always missed her being around so she'd come back and she'd grin so bright that he felt like he could smile as much as she did.
"You smile easily," Remus observed, feeling bold.
"Is that a bad thing?" She responded, unsure of how to interpret Remus's straightforward statement. This was uncharacteristic of him; he'd usually compliment her in a less straightforward way.
"Not really. Your smiles brighten up my day," Remus explained.
"Well, I'm glad I can brighten up your day. Merlin knows you need some good days in your life."
As time went on, Remus felt less devastation. Today, like most days, Tonks focused solely on making him feel good. He felt like times of desperation were much worse without her. She talked to him like a human being and made him feel worthy of attention. He craved her undivided focus, and she gave it to him. They talked for hours and he felt young again. They could speak freely to each other, and a weight was lifted off of Remus's chest. Remus felt like he found the light at the end of his tunnel and the rainbow at the end of a rainstorm in Tonks. He hated that he made those analogies, but it seemed to suit Tonks: her optimism, although occasionally dented with her other intense emotions, was genuine and radiated all around her, bringing joy to those who hung around her.
Maybe he glorified her upbeat nature because it was what he needed in his life at the moment; maybe it was unhealthy to put so much faith in one person to make him feel better. This was the closest he'd ever been to being doted upon and it was a strange, wonderful sensation that he hoped would continue.
But she changed his life, and she needed to know. "Thank you Tonks," Remus blurted out one evening, and Tonks didn't even flinch because it seemed like she expected this of him. Was he that predictable?
"You're welcome." She didn't ask why he thanked her because she seemed to already know what he was thanking her for: she helped him mourn in a way nobody else could. She had a way with words and could tell a story so engrossing, so full of joy and creativity that Remus couldn't help but hang on every single word of hers. Tonks could tell a story about anything, from something she just made up on the spot to talking about her day at a Muggle supermarket, buying groceries.
He wrapped his arms around her in a hug. She returned it and it made him feel warm.
"I think I love you," Tonks whispered in his ear as she hugged him. Remus broke off.
"Are you sure about that?" He asked; this unexpected declaration made his heart skip a beat, and not in the romantic kind of way.
"Positive," she said with a sense of conviction that Remus couldn't sway.
"If you insist…" Remus needed some convincing, but he wouldn't deny her this small pleasure. Life had a way of taking the good things away when you least expected it, and he wouldn't let life take away Tonks. Not if he could help it.