Jan. 4th, 2005

clumsy_auror: (copperbadge friede hair)
“Bollocks.”

Tonks sighed, and set aside the mug of tea she’d just slopped down the front of her robes. A wave of her wand and they were clean, but still, she sometimes wished she could feel a bit more like a graceful twenty-four-year-old, and less like an awkward, gawky adolescent. She knew why she was like that – if your body changed all the time, you wouldn’t ever be used to it, either – but it was still frustrating.

Particularly when one was caught being gawky in front of one’s supervisor.

“Tonks,” Allbright said irritably from across the table, “Pay attention, won’t you? For Merlin’s sake, you’re completely out to lunch today. What’s gotten into you?”

Well, she thought to herself, grimacing, it could be the fact that I, and several of my closest friends and associates, have been put on a fucking hit list. Or... She grinned inwardly. It could be the fact that I was snogged within an inch of my life last night. Either way, equally distracting...although one, obviously, far more pleasant than the other.

Tonks merely offered him a tight smile. “Just tired, sir.”

Allbright raised an eyebrow, but gave her a curt nod. “You’ve been putting in a lot of extra hours on the O’Brien case. Don’t think we haven’t noticed. That’s bloody fine work you’re doing there, Tonks. Just make sure you give all of your projects equal attention, eh?”

“Yes, sir.”

“All right, then. I’ll need your report on that Muggle-baiting incident in Chelsea on my desk by tomorrow morning. Dismissed.”

Tonks picked up her mug and stack of case files, tucking them under her arm and nodding to Allbright as she left his office. She made her way through the maze of cubicles until she came to her own – three down from Kingsley, with a tiny round window that gave a (magically-altered) view of a stunning, mountainous vista, complete with snow-covered pines. Maintenance must’ve had a good holiday.

She sank into her chair and mechanically began re-filing the notes she’d pulled for the meeting, letting her thoughts wander.

It was a very conflicted sort of day.

On the one hand, there was this business with the hit list. She’d owled Dumbledore at once, and he’d written back saying there would be a meeting of the Order as soon as everyone could be reached. Her biggest worry on that front now was trying to figure out which Weasley the list was referring to. Tonks was hoping to talk to Bill; she’d heard he’d been hanging around Milliways for a few weeks, but she hadn’t yet run into him. She had a horrible, sinking suspicion, however, that “The Weasley” referred to on that list was Charlie.

He’d become more high-profile within the Order lately, working with the dragons on the Reserve, and trying to figure out who was using Dark magic, and how, to Call them. He’d told her that there were people on the staff who he had doubts about, and now she feared they’d been feeding information about him directly to the Death Eaters.

Feeling a headache coming on, she sighed and massaged her forehead. She really needed to talk to Charlie, too. Bloody hell. He probably hated her guts, but...she still loved him. He was a good person, and a good friend. She needed him to not hate her entirely. And they needed to work together for the Order’s sake, too.

Tonks had to admit, as she took a deep breath and stared blankly at a memo from the Department of International Cooperation, that she was frightened. She’d known the risks when she became an Auror, and when she joined the Order, but...somehow it was different, seeing her name written on a list, black and white, kill her. But she didn’t want to let on to Bernard that she was upset.

Something suddenly glinted out of the corner of her eye; it was the pin at the throat of the cloak he’d given her, hanging in the corner a few feet away. She could feel the warmth from the protection spells even from where she sat.

He was so worried for her to begin with, and she mustn’t make things worse.

Bernard.

Swinging her chair around and propping her feet up on the filing cabinet, just staring out of the window, Tonks let her thoughts wander somewhere much, much nicer. She shivered slightly and grinned, remembering the touch of Bernard’s lips and hands. How did I not see it before? she marveled. Everything he does, every expression on his face, tells me how much he wants to be with me.

It was rather overwhelming, really. In that good, throw-your-hat-in-the-air-and-sing sort of way.

A faint flush stained her cheeks as Tonks recalled his voice reverberating low in her ear, his arms strong around her.

She shook her head suddenly, clearing it, and put her feet back on the floor. Taking out a fresh sheet of parchment, Tonks spelled her quill into dictation-mode, and began reciting the incident report due the following day.

As she worked, though, the blush remained.

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October 2007

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