Note: Early morning update! Well, early morning for me, anyway. I needed something to cheer me up in this godforsaken SNOW! (There's a veritable blizzard outside my window at the moment and I have to go out in it in twenty minutes…)

Note2: So here I decided to divert from the main action *slightly* in order to take a look at Tonks, Remus, and the way that the Ministry is coping as it slowly limps ever closer to its demise. Enjoy!

Chapter Twelve

An Auror's Lot

Tonks stared down at the pile of official but ultimately useless forms that were taking up an inordinate amount of space on her desk and gave a muted sigh of frustration. When she had first signed onto the Auror training programme however many years before, she had never expected that her chosen vocation could ever be boring, or disappointing, but she was rapidly being proved spectacularly wrong. Vexed, she slammed her bright pink quill point-downwards into her desk, hoping to emulate the nifty trick that Kingsley had showed her many times before, but in her ire she used slightly too much force and so instead of standing straight up, the nib shattered into several pieces. Tonks moaned and rested her head on the pile of papers; not having the heart to mend the broken quill and carry on as if nothing had happened. How could they carry on as if nothing had happened when Arthur was who-knows-where having who-knows-what done to him? The Ministry had barely acknowledged that one of its employees had been missing for two and a half weeks. Two and a half weeks… Tonks shuddered at the thought of it and once more cursed the head of the Auror Office. John Dawlish had been on the receiving end of numerous oaths from Tonks for the past fortnight. What was the point of being an Auror, a force for good against the dark witches and wizards of the world, when she couldn't even rescue those closest to her from peril? Which idiot had decided to make Dawlish head of the Auror Office anyway? One of You-Know-Who's lackeys no doubt; with the speed at which they were infiltrating the Ministry, Tonks was fairly sure that soon she and Kingsley were going to be the only vaguely respectable people left. She sighed once more, emphatically, and repaired the quill in order to try again, but the same result occurred. It was all Dawlish's fault, she thought darkly, seeking to blame everything on the man.

As skilled a wizard as he was, Dawlish was slightly too fond of paperwork and, tragically, he was very wary of the phenomenon known to all as 'Auror's Instinct'. He insisted on doing everything by the book, even if every fibre of his underlings' beings was screaming otherwise. Naturally, investigating Arthur Weasley's disappearance was not a priority for Dawlish, and therefore it was not a priority for his Aurors. Tonks and Kingsley could only do what they were able to in their own time; their working hours being taken up with mundane office tasks. Tonks could have sworn that there was never this much paperwork when Scrimgeour had been in charge.

Contrary to popular belief, Rufus Scrimgeour had been an excellent boss for Tonks. He was a hard taskmaster, yes, but he had quickly earned the young Auror's respect. He genuinely knew about his work and he always, always trusted his instincts. He had also had some semblance of a sense of humour when he could be bothered (Tonks vividly remembered the incident in which she had found a pair of ladies' stockings in his waste-paper basket one morning and he made no attempt to either find the culprit or stop the rumour mill). It was a shame that this powerful sense of right and wrong and the seemingly effortless ease with which he commanded and controlled his forces had not been carried over into his new position as Minister. He had been taken over by politics, and the Auror within had been all but forgotten.

"You're being too vehement," came a deep voice from somewhere above Tonks' ear, and a pheasant feather quill dropped into her desk, standing up perfectly vertically. "You need to be firm, but friendly. You don't want to stab the table to death."

"Hi Kingsley," said Tonks gloomily without looking up. "You're right. I don't want to stab the table to death. I'm reserving that fate for Dawlish."

Kingsley laughed, and finally Tonks deigned to look up at him, leaning over the partition that separated their two desks.

"It's not funny, Kingsley," she snapped. "We're Aurors for crying out loud, if we can't find Arthur then who can? It's been sixteen days! Surely, surely something must have happened by now!"

Kingsley's slight smile faded, for he knew that Tonks was right. Neither of them wanted to dwell on what might have happened. His gaze wandered over to the door at the end of the Auror office, the tiny room where Arthur had worked for countless years before his promotion last summer. Although the room had lain as good as empty for over a year, seeing the door every day reminded them forcibly of who they had lost, and how little they had been able to do to save him.

"We'll find him Tonks. We've ruled out quite a few places already. We're making progress."

"I know, I know." Tonks paused, not wanting to say what she was about to say but knowing that it was true. "As much as it pains me to say it, I wish we still had Snape on our side. He would have found Arthur in a jiffy."

Kingsley didn't reply, leaving Tonks to her thoughts. She had never fully trusted or distrusted Snape; it was hard to put one's faith in a man whose occupation revolved centrally around lies and deception, but she had never thought him capable of… that. She shrugged, it just went to show that everyone could be wrong at the best of times. Maybe Dawlish was right in not trusting his gut feelings. Tonks had been certain that Snape had ultimately been on their side; she had been certain that Dumbledore had known exactly what he was doing, and she had been proved wrong.

Oh, pull yourself together, Nymphadora. No-one is infallible.

That was true, but when it came to her vocation, fallibility could prove to be a fatal undoing. It had proved to be Dumbledore's fatal undoing.

"If it makes it any better, I felt the same way," said Kingsley. "I too thought that, if push came to shove, he was trustworthy."

Tonks focussed back on the present.

"Was it really that obvious what I was thinking about?"

Kingsley nodded.

"It just makes no sense!" Tonks exclaimed, shattering the nib of her quill for a third time, much to Kingsley's visible chagrin. "If the terrible event hadn't already happened, I'd have said that it was out of character for him."

It was Kingsley's turn to shrug.

"What's done is done," he said firmly, and Tonks knew that this thread of conversation, as painful for both of them as it was to be reminded of a failing in their judgement, was closed. "I've been trying to cross some more places off our possible list. We've already established that it's unlikely for You-Know-Who to be using any of the old places that were originally suspected as his base of operations, so I've tried a new approach."

"Why don't we just look in all the places where he's least likely to be?" said Tonks. "We'd kick ourselves if we discovered him in Fortescue's cellar." Kingsley raised an eyebrow. "Sorry, I know, that's not exactly helping. I just don't know what to do, Kingsley!"

"Keep hoping," said Kingsley simply. "That's half the battle. Hope is what keeps us going. If we give up hope then we may as well give up completely, and then he's already won. Arthur's relying on us. I know it's not the best thing to be reminded of when we're no nearer to finding him than we were the evening he was first taken, but if we give up on him now then that's akin to abandoning him."

Tonks nodded. The words, although not the most constructive or pleasant to hear, were true. Tonks had never been one to adhere to Moody's old principle of leaving the dead behind. In Tonks's mind, no-one got left behind. She supposed it was her Hufflepuff instincts coming back to her – loyalty and solidarity would prevent her from turning her back on a comrade who needed assistance, even if it meant putting herself in danger to do so. She knew that she could never truly give up on Arthur, no matter how hard things got, no matter how much paperwork Dawlish piled on her desk.

"Tonks?" At first the young Auror did not notice the hissed voice, which seemed to be coming from her pocket. "Tonks, are you there? Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin!"

"Alright, alright…" Tonks recognised her husband's voice and flicked her head minutely towards Arthur's office. Kingsley nodded and disappeared back behind the partition as Tonks stood and made her way down the rows of desks, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible as she unlocked the empty room with a flick of her wand and sat down in the murky gloom within to pull out the mirror.

Remus, recognising the need for those employed at the Ministry to have a fairly untraceable method of communicating with the Order without their corrupted superiors knowing, had attempted to remake the mirror connection that James and Sirius had perfected during their time at Hogwarts. Unfortunately, he was not sure of the exact magic and had only been able to produce one such pair of mirrors; with Tonks keeping hold of one of the twins. It was a tenuous link, haphazard as to when it would function and with a tendency to cut off important news halfway through its being relayed, but it was better than nothing.

"Hey Moony," she said wearily. All of a sudden, the idea of going home to a warm bed and several hours of dreamless sleep seemed to be extremely inviting. "What's new?"

"Not much," admitted Remus, his reflection in the mirror rippling slightly, as if he was being seen through water rather than glass. The effect made Tonks feel rather sea-sick. "Is Kingsley there?"

"He's on his way," said Tonks.

"He's here," said Kingsley, squeezing into the office and perching on the desk next to Tonks, looking over her shoulder into the mirror. "Are you at the Burrow?"

Remus nodded.

"Yes. Apparently Harry tried another moonlight flit last night."

"Another?" Tonks sighed. Ever since Arthur had been taken, the guilt and anger had slowly been eating away at Harry. This would be the third time that he had tried to escape from the safety of the Burrow in order to do something, anything that would focus You-Know-Who's energies on him and persuade him to let Arthur go. Luckily, his leaving had been prevented on all of the occasions, but the Aurors and the other older Order members were petrified that one of these nights, he might succeed, and then they would have failed in the last task that Dumbledore had set them before his death – protect Harry, for he was the best hope they had.

"How far did he get this time?" asked Kingsley.

"Luckily he didn't make it past the front door. It appears that the Weasleys have set up a sort of watch to keep him from leaving the house. Ginny was on duty last night. Harry seems to listen to her more than the others."

"Ah, the feminine wiles," said Tonks with a grin. "You men really are simply too susceptible."

Kingsley laughed at the blush that began to rise in Remus's cheeks, and Tonks bit her lip to stop her succumbing to the same fate. Even in the midst of all the fear and worry, she could not help but give thanks that she was lucky enough to have a husband whom she loved to pieces and who loved her back with equal vehemence. It was strange though, thinking of herself as a married woman. It was always especially odd when she considered her name. Having always preferred to be called solely by her surname, it made her laugh when she realised that she was, in all reality, not called Tonks any more, and in time, people who met her would wonder where the odd nickname had come from. Still, she would far rather have exchanged her surname for Remus's than remain Tonks. In these uncertain times, it was always good to have something solid to cling to, and call her old-fashioned, but Tonks had wanted to make her relationship with Remus legitimate just in case the worst should come to pass. She had, as a girl, always held a morbid fear of dying a spinster, a fear that her adult self had laughed at. Until she met Remus, and she knew that she was going to hang onto him tooth and nail for as long as she lived.

"Earth to Tonks," said Kingsley. "And Remus. It's all very well having this method of communication but we'll never get on if you spend all your time lost in thought about each other. Here, give me that." Kingsley went to wrest the mirror from Tonks's grasp and that pulled her back into the present.

"Ok, ok, we'll behave," said Remus hastily. "I was really only calling to let you know that Hestia's been called away to something or other in Sussex so I'm cooking tonight."

Tonks nodded. Since Arthur's capture, the Order had, by silent and mutual consent, started to help out Molly in the Burrow, mainly with cooking for all the various people who turned up on the doorstep with news and reports on any given evening. Some of the attempts had been more successful than others, and although Tonks might tease him and transfigure his apron into a pink flowery monstrosity, she had secretly enjoyed discovering Remus's domestic streak.

"We'll be there," said Kingsley. "Till then."

"Till then."

Kingsley politely turned away as Remus mouthed 'I love you', and the mirror faded back to a reflection of the two Aurors just as the door to the office opened.

"Tonks? Shacklebolt?" It was Dawlish, his tone somewhere between confusion and anger. This was not the first time that he had found them in the office together, and it was clear that he suspected something, even if the something he suspected was a long way from the truth.

"We were looking for clues as to Arthur Weasley's disappearance," said Kingsley, smoothly cutting in to stop Tonks's mouth opening and closing as she floundered for something to say.

"In the dark?"

"Light can be deceptive," replied Kingsley easily, the statement laced with such cool charisma that Dawlish could not argue with it. He narrowed his eyes towards the Order members.

"I believe you are both behind in your paperwork," he said gruffly, before leaving the room and closing the door behind him. Tonks let out the long breath that she had been holding.

"We're going to have to be more careful," said Kingsley. "Luckily for us, Dawlish has about as much imagination as a flobberworm, but we can't fob him off forever."

Tonks nodded as they left the office. In the current climate, one could never be too careful. It was a mark of the terrible times when you couldn't even trust your own colleagues. She shook her head sadly. What she wouldn't give for it all to be over, for everyone to be free from fear once more, and moreover, for Arthur to be back in the Burrow safe and sound.

Note3: Onwards and upwards!