Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I do however own ten pairs of shoes.

Authors note: This is just a little fic I wrote about how Remus and Tonks realise they love each other during the time of Ootp. They're two separate one shots really, but they work as mirror images and they're both equally fluffy. This is Tonk's story. Enjoy and please review.

Someone To Watch Over Me

"There's a somebody I'm longing to see.

I hope that he,

Turns out to be,

Someone who'll watch over me."

Gershwin, Someone to watch over me

"Push the door; I'm home at last,

And I'm soaking through and through.

Then you handed me a towel,

And all I see is you"

Dido, Thankyou

Chapter One: Dora has a bad day.

Nymphadora Tonks would always remember clearly the exact moment she had realised she was in love with Remus Lupin. It had been growing on her for a long time, almost ever since she'd met him in fact. She hadn't failed to notice how considerate, understanding and kind he was and they'd grown to be close friends working for the order together, but the moment she realised it had turned into something so much more had felt like a blinding flash of light. She would remember it for ever.

It began as a perfectly ordinary day in late October; well, rather worse that ordinary actually. She woke up with a burning, raging cold. The kind where you can't move or think: you just ache. Tonks groaned and pulled the worn and faded blanket which covered her bed over her head, curling up into a ball and closing her eyes against the world. Did she really have to get up, leave the safe warmth of her bed? Perhaps she could just skip work for today? Then, with a feeling of mounting horror, she remembered the huge pile of reports on Sirius Black sightings she had left on her desk in the Aurors' office last night and knew that if she didn't consolidate them and present a report on their findings to Kingsley by the end of the day Rufus Scrimgeour would want to know why. She groaned again (a low, deep and satisfying grumble) and dragged herself, inch by painful inch, out from under the covers. Her nose was itching painfully and she was sure it was tomato red by now as well, just her luck.

Her flat was a complete mess. It had been pretty dark and dingy when she'd moved in and when you added a pile of dirty clothes, discarded issues of the Daily Prophet, a couple of severely dog-eared files from work, mountains of books and the odd empty pizza box (a taste she'd inherited from her father) the result was an over cluttered pigsty that was starting to smell slightly. She really ought to clean up in here, but between work for the Ministry and work for the Order she somehow never had the energy. She'd never been too good with neatness magic. It suddenly flashed across her mind to think what Remus would say if he saw it, probably that it was just like her, an ever changing jumble full of delicious contradictions. She smiled; thinking of Remus generally had that effect on her. Yawning lazily she put a hand up to her mouth, and caught sight of her watch. Damn it was nine thirty already, she was half an hour late, again. She had charmed her bedside lamp to ring like an alarm clock but today she had obviously slept through it. She gave a yelp of shock, threw on her black work robes, snatched up her files and dashed out of the flat, tripping over yesterday's daily prophet as she did so. It was raining outside.

Things did not improve when she actually arrived at work. The pile of papers was not the only thing waiting for her at her desk, nor was it the most unpleasant. Rufus Scrimgeour sat in the seat opposite hers, an extremely annoyed expression on his grim, hard featured face, his hair bushed out angrily. Tonks' found her boss intimidating to say the least, not only did he exude authority as if it was a secretion released from his pores, but his hair (which was practically a lions main) gave her the impression that he was liable to roar at her at any moment. Indeed, roaring did seem to constitute the greater part of his conversation with his most junior Auror.

He looked her up and down, took in her appearance (which was rather wild, her bubblegum pink hair was sticking up at odd angles and one shoe was coming off) and raised a disapproving eyebrow. "Well Miss Tonks, I assume there is a reasonable explanation as to your lateness, and your rather, err, unorthodox appearance." He said in a deceptively even voice, though she could detect the undercurrents of rough anger.

"I, err, I overslept sir" she mumbled incoherently, flushing scarlet with shame, as she leant against her desk. She normally adopted a more formal look for work, but this morning she'd left the house in such a flurry that she hadn't had time. Scrimgeour's Stone grey eyes hardened immediately and neck boiled red, a sure sign that he was furious, her stomach squirmed with guilt. Tonks was struck by how different eyes could be, even eyes of the same colour. Remus, for instance, had cloudy grey eyes, but his were always kind and sympathetic, sad sometimes, but never cold.

The roar she had long been expecting finally broke over her, he exploded. "YOU OVERSLEPT!" Scrimgeour bellowed furiously, and outraged tone in his voice. "HAVE YOU ANY IDEA HOW IRRESSPONSIBLE THAT WAS? WHAT IF THERE HAD BEEN AN ATTACK? WHAT WOULD YOU HAVE TOLD THE MINISTER, EH!" here he adopted a high whiny voice she assumed was meant to be an imitation of her. "SORRY SIR, ALL MY COLLEAGUES WERE KILLED BY DARK WIZARDS, AND I WAS ASLEEP! YOU ARE NOT A MOODY TEENAGER AND THIS IS NOT PLAYSCHOOL. GET YOUR ACT TOGETHER TONKS. NOW!" Tonks simply put her head in her hands in exhaustion and let it wash over her.

Finally when she thought he'd finished she muttered "Sorry sir won't happen again sir" without meeting his eyes. Why did she let Scrimgeour make her like she was about two? Probably because he could sack her if he wanted to, and she was beginning to think he wanted to.

"Yes, well, I should hope not" he grumbled, calmer but not at all satisfied. "Anyway, I came to see if you've finished that report on the rumours of increased werewolf activity in Norfolk I asked for, it's three days overdue already." Tonks blushed guiltily; she had in fact finished the report almost a week ago, but had given it to Remus to study for signs of Voldemort's involvement. He knew enough about werewolf behaviour to judge whether the individuals in question were being co-ordinated from outside. As he had not yet returned it to her, Scrimgeour's question was extremely awkward. She mumbled a lame excuse about being drowned by paperwork on the Black hunt; Sirius did have his uses as a cover at times, but knew Scrimgeour was going to be very irritated. Damn Remus and his obsessive scholars' urge to nitpick and over analyse! "On my Desk tomorrow then Tonks and this really isn't good enough, I know werewolves aren't strictly our department but that's no excuse for slacking." he barked. Then, to her intense relief, he stood up and strode impressively away. For a moment she watched him, eyes burning with the rage she hadn't been able to show. Then she collapsed miserably behind her desk, giving in to despair. The pile of paperwork glared at her accusingly.

She worked all the rest of the morning, slogging through the pile of reported Sirius black sightings. It was all such waste of time, why bother reporting on where people were supposed to have seen him when she knew exactly where he was anyway, and wasn't about to report it to the ministry? Ever since she had joined the Order she had been growing increasingly frustrated and irritable at work. It was the mind-numbing pointlessness of it all that got to her. The ministry had hidden from Voldemort beneath a heap of useless and aggressive bureaucracy. When Tonks had first decided to become an Auror, when she was seventeen, she had been full of idealistic notions about protecting the community, now she longed more than anything to be actually out there, doing something to stop him. The ministry's attitude had made that nearly impossible. She found that she was growing disillusioned and embittered, losing her belief in her job. As a result her work was becoming sloppy and thoughtless. It's very difficult to do your best on something you are convinced doesn't matter anyway. She now spent most of her time at the office in a listless stupor. Her work for the Order was when she really came alive. She struggled with the paper work for four hours. Her head began to ache persistently, as if her brain was crying out please, use me. Finally, when she was bored she could hardly keep her eyes open; she decided to have a break for lunch. She got up, stretched, and left her desk in its characteristic state of chaos.

The Ministry canteen was already bustling when Tonks entered. She enjoyed the friendly chatter of the ministry staff. Lunch was also a good opportunity to talk to fellow Order members from other departments. She spotted Arthur Weasley at a table in the corner, waved cheerfully and was about to join him when someone took hold of her arm. She turned round to see Stephen Dawlish standing beside her, giving her a wide, greasy grin. She shuddered. "Nymphadora my dear," he drawled "I do hope you'll join me for lunch." There was nothing she'd like to do less. Dawlish, a smooth, greying charmer, and almost twenty years her senior, persisted in making his intentions to towards his young colleague abundantly clear. On top of this he was a fanatical Fudge loyalist. However, he was senior to her, and therefore had the authority to command her attention. She gave Arthur Weasley an apologetic look and moved to follow Dawlish wondering how on earth she was going to get through the whole meal without hexing him.

She sat in stony silence, answering both his sleazy inquiries into her health and his scathing comments about Dumbledore with non committal shrugs. She was full of rage at him for his blindness, full of rage at the whole ministry. As she watched him out of glazed and unfocussed eyes she found her thinking about how unlike Remus he was. Where had that come from? She desperately wanted to get away. All in all lunch was not the relaxing break she had hoped for. She wolfed down a rather depressed looking ham Sandwich in double quick time. Her cold (or was it Dawlish?) had made her feel rather sick. She left as fast as possible with a vague sense of being contaminated.

The afternoon heralded only worse for Tonks. At around four o'clock she finally finished compiling a coordinated account of all the Sirius Black sightings and set off to deliver it to Kingsley Shacklebolt. When she arrived at his office however, she could hear two voices deep in conversation, he was not alone. She recognised the harsh barking voice as Scrimgeour's and soft mellow one as Kingsley's.

"Seriously Shacklebolt, do you think the Tonks child can cut it?" he said, his voice dismissive and sharp. "She's sloppy and careless, always late" he continued. Tonks felt her breath catch in her chest, a sick feeling of fear mixed with fury welling up inside her as she stood outside the door, straining to listen. This is it, she thought in a panic, I'm out.

Kingsley's deep, rich voice cut in. "I think that Nymphadora Tonks is neither incompetent, nor a child. But a brave woman, committed to her job." He spoke steadily, his voice calm, emphasising her name slightly, there was a faint note of reprisal there too. Hearing this Tonks wanted to cheer, her heart leapt with gratefulness. Where had Kingsley learned how to manage Scrimgeour so well? She would be able to remain so calm. Her mother had once told her she had too much passion, and that it was dangerous. She thought now she understood what she meant.

Scrimgeour was still grumbling about her under his breath, she was unable to hear what he was saying. She almost burst with frustration. Finally he raised his voice enough to say clearly "Well, I trust your judgement Shacklebolt, but if she doesn't improve soon, well..." Then he strode out of the office, brushing past her as if she was no more than a fly. Hot angry tears welled up in her eyes. She strode briskly into Kingsley's office, pretending desperately that she was alright. Kingsley looked up and saw her and gave her a quick friendly smile, he didn't seem to notice how shaken she was, which was a blessed relief. She was able to return, shaken but un-interrogated to her desk.

By eight o'clock, the time she usually finished work, she was exhausted, fretful, miserable and slightly feverish. She badly needed a hot drink and an early night. So of course she was on guard duty outside the department of mysteries till midnight. This mainly involved sitting alone in a dark hall way growing steadily more stiff and bored, watching intently as absolutely nothing happened. She knew that it was important, but that didn't make it enjoyable, she was already half dead with tiredness. She passed her four hours growing steadily more cold and achy. It was a struggle to keep her eyes open. She began to feel more than a little frightened and alone. At one point she was almost convinced that Voldemort himself was standing right in front her, laughing before she realised it was only the twisting shadows of the torchlight, which grew ever more malevolent as the night wore on. Finally midnight came and her shift ended. She waited until Arthur Weasley arrived to take over from her before stretching some of the stiffness out of herself and apparating back to Grimmauld Place to make her report.

It was raining when she arrived in Grimmauld Place, heavy driving sheets of rain that blurred her vision and turned the whole world grey under the artificial orange glow of the street lamp. The few moments she was outside were enough to get her soaked to the skin. She began to shiver uncontrollably as she pushed her way into the cluttered hallway. This was all she needed; now she was miserable and wet. All she wanted was to make her report, a simple "all quiet" to whoever had waited up and get back to bed as quickly as possible. She was beginning to think she'd made a mistake in ever leaving her bed today. This is intention was roundly defeated by the unfortunate fact that at this precise moment she tripped over the umbrella stand in the corner, turned head over heals and, clutching at the portrait of Mrs Black for support, managed to rip back the curtain.

Mrs Black began to scream almost instantly. "FOUL SHIFTER" she shrieked, in a voice as coarse and harsh as iron wool "UNNATURAL ABOMINATION. BLOOD TRAITOR." For Tonks, who had landed crumpled and bruised on the floor this was absolutely the last straw. All the misery of the day boiled up inside her, overwhelming, with no way out except through her eyes. She began to cry: choking, gulping, half hysterical sobs, the sobs of the exhausted. She felt worn thin. The screams and her own sobbing pounded round and round in her head, throbbing.

The suddenly she heard a voice, one she'd recognise anywhere, soft warm and slightly frayed at the edges. "Dora, is that you?" he said. Only one person in the world called her Dora. The person she least, or maybe most, wanted to see when she was sobbing her heart out. Remus Lupin. She looked up at him, swollen eyed and runny nosed. His face, calm and friendly, grey eyes full of concern, was like water in the desert. She couldn't say anything. She just put out her arms.

He knelt down beside her and she put her arms round him, resting her head on his shoulder. "Dora, what happened, what's wrong?" he asked urgently, his eyes wide with worry.

"N-Nothing," she stammered through her tears "j-just Scimgeour, and I'm s-sooo tired, and now THAT" she gestured violently towards Mrs blacks portrait which was still cackling crazily. Remus jumped up at once and pulled the curtain sharply across, the raucous yells died away.

He knelt back down beside her and putting arm round gently said "Come on Dora tell me what happened." His was inviting, friendly sympathetic, so she told him: the whole miserable story of her miserable day. He listened without interrupting her and finally said, fixing his grey eyes on her intently, "Dora, don't ever let anyone make you feel worthless, because you're not. You're clever and brave and funny and you're strong, really strong Dora." When she heard that a bright beaming smile, the first real smile she'd given all day spread across her face. She didn't say anything; she just let his words warm her and lost herself in his eyes. "Don't ever let yourself feel like what you're doing doesn't mean anything." he continued, his voice passionate. "There will be times when you feel frustrated and useless, but don't give up, don't ever give up: because what we're doing is more important that anything else in the world, you know that don't you? We've got to keep fighting." She nodded in agreement and understanding, why was it that he could always lift her mood, keep her going, always knew exactly the right thing to say?

Suddenly he looked at her, as if taking in for the first time that she was damp and shivering. "Dora! You're soaking wet, no wonder you're miserable!" He put a cool dry hand on her forehead and his face creased in a frown "You've got a fever" he said in alarm. "Come on, you need to be in bed, you can stay here for tonight. Let's get you upstairs and out of these wet robes" his voice became brisk and authoritative, he wasn't going to take no for an answer. In fact, Tonks was far to tired to argue, she wanted him to look after her.

Then something miraculous happened. He stood up and then scooped her up as if she was lighter than a baby and began to carry her up the stairs. She gave a cry that was half delight half protest. "Well I didn't think you were in fit state to walk" he said with a soft laugh.

"I wasn't" she replied gently. It was breathtaking how safe she felt in his arms, how much she wanted to stay in them forever. She rested a weary head on his shoulder and closed her eyes, drinking in the feeling. All too soon they arrived in the bedroom Harry and Ron had shared over the summer. He put her, oh so gently, on the bed conjured a pair of pyjamas and left her to get into bed. It was an incredible relief to peel off her wet clothes and wriggle into bed with a sigh.

He returned a few minutes later with a soft knock on the door and a steaming mug of cocoa. She accepted it gratefully and he sat on the end of the bed watching her gulp it down. "Umm," she sighed sleepily "Remus this is delicious"

He laughed and said "Well cocoa making is one of my many hidden talents"

She gave him and impish grin, which showed him she was back to normal "Well, if there all as good as your cocoa I'll have to start sampling them more often." Her eyes sparkled wickedly.

He put a hand on her shoulder and said "You will be alright won't you Dora" as if in need of reassurance.

"Of course" she replied brightly "You know me, Nymphadora Tonks, wonder woman."

He smiled at that and stood up to leave "Goodnight Dora" he said softly, and then leaned in to kiss her cheek. It was that moment, as his lips brushed her skin that she recognised what she had been feeling all along. She was in love. Oh well she thought sleepily, in love is not such a bad place to be. "I love you Remus" she murmured as the cocoa carried her off to sleep. His expression as he stood with his hand on the door was unreadable. What he said was "Sweet Dreams Dora." She knew that they would be, they would be full of him.

End of Chapter One

well did you like it? If you did please review and let me know, or if you have something you think I could improve. I welcome constructive criticism. Chapter two "Remus has a bad night" to follow soon.