AN: Do we still do author notes? I haven't been here in like three years... So I found this on an old flash drive and thought it wasn't half bad, so now it's a thing. Those of you who are familiar with my other stuff know how horrible I am at updating the thing once I make it a thing. But I'll try or whatever. If there are updates, this will be a Tonks/Charlie Weasley story (hooray obscure pairings!) with Death Eater battles and a Ministry-funded werewolf round-up and hostages and torture and other exciting stuff.
So I guess you need to know the following: Post-OOTP, AU, probable shirtless Weasleys. That's all. Go, read!
Prologue: Sacked?
Tonks hesitated, her hand poised and hovering just above the polished silver doorknob. She knew she was being silly. She'd been in this office hundreds of times before, more often than not barging in with only a perfunctory rap of her knuckles against the wood. It was ridiculous to be frightened of a meeting so simple.
Reason, however, didn't quell the sick churning of anxiety in her stomach.
Sure, Kingsley had come out alright. Mad-Eye had done little more than glare and snarl to have both his and Remus's names cleared of suspicion, according to her secondhand account of the questioning. Dumbledore had vouched for the kids.
She only had herself to blame, that she was facing this alone. Making the decision to lay low at Headquarters on leave for the past three weeks meant that everyone else involved had made their statements and got the unpleasant business resolved.
The file she clutched to her chest was supposed to be the solution. She hadn't even peeked inside. She had scribbled her signature on the bottom of one bit of parchment, at Kingsley's impatient demand, over breakfast. He'd said it was her statement. The statement she'd been avoiding writing for three weeks, which Kingsley had finally taken upon himself to write for her.
Shame burned through her at the recollection, a sensation she'd grown accustomed to since the duel in the Department of Mysteries.
The doorknob turned of its own accord, startling her out of her hesitance. Tonks snatched her hand away and stepped back, still gripping the file protectively against her.
"Come inside, Tonks. We can't have you loitering about in the hallway the entire morning."
Amelia Bones stood in the office doorway, one hand on her hip in a reproving stance, a kind smile ready on her lips. Tonks felt the knot of anxiety in her chest uncoil a little.
"Come on," Bones urged, stepping aside and motioning her in. "Is that for me?" Her eyes found the unassuming manila file.
"Right, sorry," Tonks apologized quickly, moving past Bones into the office and simultaneously relinquishing the folder.
"Honestly, I thought we trained you lot to be brave," Amelia quipped, shutting the door and crossing the office to settle in the comfortable looking upholstered chair behind her desk.
Tonks managed a weak chuckle, but even to her own ears it sounded forced and false. She went to hover uncertainly in the vicinity of Bones's desk. She was loathe to sit if she was only going to be sacked in the next sixty seconds.
"Sit, please, Nymphadora," Amelia prompted, and Tonks caught the faintest hint of bemused puzzlement shining behind her superior's eyes. She opened her mouth to remind Bones not to call her Nymphadora, but the words wouldn't come. Her voice hitched on the first syllable out of nerves.
She sat, for lack of anything better to do, sliding her bag from her shoulder and letting it drop with a soft thump to the floor. She wished Bones would get on with it.
"You're a great asset to the Ministry, Tonks," Amelia began after a moment, flipping through the contents of the file, which Tonks now saw were a mere three sheets of parchment. "Your abilities are unique in the Auror ranks, and you're frighteningly adept at using them. You're perfect for any number of undercover operations."
She shuffled the sheets of parchment, studying one more particularly than the others. Tonks shifted impatiently, a cautiously optimistic bubble of hope expanding within her. Amelia's compliments didn't sound much like a sacking. Then again, she could just be trying to soften the blow.
Bones couldn't be implying she was still employed. Not after all the suspicious sneaking she'd been doing over the past year with Kingsley; twice she'd been caught snooping in restricted files, on Dumbledore's orders. Not after her mysterious presence at the Ministry with the other Order members. Not after taking three weeks of unauthorized leave, neglecting to owl Bones and simply not showing up, although she had a suspicion that Kingsley had covered her arse there.
Those were just the larger transgressions. She wasn't bothering to consider the handful of botched missions, or falling asleep during watches, or the sometimes frequent habit she had of showing up late to her desk in the morning.
"The Healers have declared you fit for fieldwork, but…" Bones trailed off and closed the file, folding her hands atop it.
Ah yes, here it was. But the Ministry will no longer require your services. Tonks curled a hand around the strap of her bag and stood, ready to beat a hasty retreat the moment Bones sealed her fate.
Bones raised her eyes and pinned Tonks with a serious expression. She was surprised to find her superior's eyebrows drawn together in what could only be described as concern. "If you'd like another fortnight of leave, I'd be happy to grant it. We can't afford to lose you."
Tonks stood numb for a moment, shock rippling through her with an unpleasantly sharp tingle.
"Perhaps it would be for the best," Amelia prompted her gently. "You're behaving very oddly, not at all like yourself-"
"I'm not sacked?" she blurted incredulously, at last daring to consider the possibility. She forgot to keep a good grip on her bag, suspended as it was halfway to her shoulder. The strap slipped from her fingers and the bag clipped the corner of Bones's desk as it fell, upsetting her in-tray and sending an open bottle of bright blue ink rolling across the desk.
"Sacked?" Amelia repeated blankly, dabbing hurriedly at the papers on her desk with the sleeve of her robe, attempting in vain to soak up the ink before it seeped into the parchment. "Why in Merlin's name would you be sacked? Quite frankly, I've been dreading your resignation."
"I'm not about to resign!" Tonks scoffed, nose wrinkled distastefully at the idea. What kind of nutter did Amelia take her for? "Not after all the shite Mad-Eye put me through in training!"
"Why don't we start over?" Amelia suggested, the tiniest hint of suppressed laughter behind her tone.
Tonks sat, much more willingly this time, and marveled at how light she suddenly felt. A bit of the melancholy that had seized her since Sirius's death seemed to fall away. Bones still wanted her on the force, she wasn't entirely useless after all.
Something sparked inside, a flicker of optimism and happiness, a feeling she was beginning to think had abandoned her altogether. She clung to it, willed it to endure and flourish, wracked her mind for a way to help it along.
"Can I have an assignment?" she asked Bones, who was busy siphoning the spilled ink away from her desk with her wand. Yes, the though of fieldwork sent a jolt of excitement through her. The spark grew. "Today?"
She knew she sounded overeager, but she didn't much care. It suddenly seemed very silly of her, to have spent the past fortnight languishing at Grimmauld Place when there was really nothing wrong with her, save for cowardice.
"We have to deal with the formalities first, I'm afraid." Bones settled in her chair again, satisfied with the ink cleanup. "This meeting to begin with. Then you can drop in on Scrimgeour and schedule your assessment. He's up to his ears in new leads and paperwork, so he'll probably call in Mad-Eye to conduct it."
Tonks groaned and slumped down in her chair, not bothering to mask her displeasure. All Aurors were required to pass a skills assessment upon returning from extended leave, to be certain they were ready for fieldwork. Scrimgeour might have let her off easy, but Mad-Eye would give her hell.
"Then," Bones continued, ignoring Tonks's little outburst, as she was usually very nice about doing in these situations, "you can see to your desk. Kingsley's convinced there's a bit of old takeaway buried underneath the mountain of memos, and I must say I'm inclined to agree with him. The smell's becoming unbearable."
"Thai, I think," Tonks agreed sheepishly, thinking back hard to remember the state she'd left her desk in before the Department of Mysteries battle. "From the Muggle place on the corner."
"I wish you lot wouldn't do that," Amelia added distractedly as she rummaged in a desk drawer and drew out a bit of violet parchment. "Those Muggles inevitably notice something. Just last week Wheliker went out to that pub near the park, in full robes, and tried to pay with Galleons."
"Wheliker's always been an idiot," Tonks agreed, her interest piqued. Inight Wheliker was one of the smarmiest Aurors on the force. He liked to beleaguer her about her stealth skills. "Wouldn't know a Death Eater if one shoved their wand up his arse."
Bones made a small, offhand noise of agreement, now absorbed with writing something on the purple memo parchment. Tonks tried to keep a firm hold on both her patience and curiosity, but restraint had never been her strongest character trait.
"He hasn't been sacked, has he?"
She hoped very much that Bones missed the anticipation behind her tone.
"Suspended," Bones told her. She gave the memo a tap with her wand and it folded itself neatly into a paper airplane. Another tap, and it lifted into the air and shot from the room, the office door opening and closing for it with a gentle click. "Rufus wasn't too happy with him. Lectured him in front of the entire force, going on about the disgrace of a fully trained Auror flaunting the Statute of Secrecy so carelessly."
"How terrible for him!" Tonks sympathized brightly. She tried, but couldn't mask the cheeriness in her voice. She resolved never to miss a day at the Ministry again. Too many wonderful things were apt to happen when she was gone.
"Horrible," Bones agreed with mock solemnity, her mouth quirking up at one corner, as if she would smile. Tonks watched her retrieve another sheet of parchment and smooth it carefully flat. She held a quill poised to write. "Now, to your interrogation. On the night of June 15th, you were at your desk after hours, assisting Shacklebolt with the Sirius Black case, correct?"
Hearing his name tossed out so carelessly gave her a little shock. They had transitioned very quickly from Ministry gossip to official business, and Bones's firm assertion of her whereabouts that night threw her. She could feel the now-familiar sense of melancholy threatening to engulf her once again.
"No," she muttered softly, dropping her eyes to the floor as flashes of that night came back to her. "No, I wasn't with Kingsley at all. I was at…." She couldn't very well say Grimmauld Place. "With Remus and-"
"The answer you have just given me," Bones cut in sharply, speaking over her, "was 'Yes, Madam Bones, your information is absolutely correct.' Next I am going to ask what drew you down into the Department of Mysteries, and you, Miss Tonks, are going to read verbatim from your signed and entirely accurate statement."
Bones pushed the file across to her side of the desk. Finally cottoning on, and feeling rather dim for not realizing her role the instant the interrogation started, Tonks seized it and flicked it open.
The top sheet of parchment bore the seal of St. Mungo's. Penned in her mum's hand, it detailed her week long stay at the establishment. Near the bottom it stated the date she was cleared for fieldwork, some two weeks ago.
Under that was a letter, signed by Dumbledore. It appeared to be a character reference. Odd phrases jumped out at her as she skimmed it; unwaveringly loyal, exceptionally talented, always wears sensibly warm socks.
The last paper was her statement. She was surprised to find the script matched exactly with the signature she'd put on it during breakfast. Kingsley must have charmed the parchment.
She skimmed this briefly too, then began reading aloud what Bones had already read for herself. She and Kingsley working late on Sirius leads; the fictitious rumbling explosions that signified the Death Eaters breaching the Department of Mysteries, which supposedly drew them downstairs into the battle; a pair of hastily sent owls, one to Fudge and another to Dumbledore, requesting backup; their discovery of Death Eaters and Hogwarts students.
A length of blank parchment gave her pause. There was ample space between the last sentence of Kingsley's invention and her signature, and she wasn't entirely certain what belonged there.
"You may tell me the rest from memory," Bones prompted, correctly interpreting her silence.
Tonks continued, slower this time, considering her words carefully. She named Death Eaters, gave a brief rundown of her duel with Bellatrix, and ended somewhat lamely with waking up hours later and discovering that she had landed herself in St. Mungo's. The parchment filled in the blank space as she spoke, ink bleeding from between the fibers of the paper to form words.
Silence prevailed for a moment, while Bones finished scratching out her report and signed it with a sharp flick of the quill. Tonks replaced the parchment in the folder and slid it back across the desk, pausing to assess the state of her enthusiasm, which she had only just grasped again but felt sure had already escaped.
Reliving the Department of Mysteries brought back images. Bellatrix and her demented howling laughter, injured colleagues, bright flaring lights, and, although she hadn't really witnessed it, an imagined vision of what Sirius must have looked like disappearing behind the veil.
These things didn't sting quite as much as usual, however. She could accept that the events had occurred. She was even willing to admit that she'd made mistakes while fighting Bellatrix. But as Mad-Eye had pointed out over dinner on Friday, much to her surprise, she lasted longer than he did in the battle that night. It wasn't exactly praise, but coming from Moody it was equivalent to an Order of Merlin, First Class. He didn't concede to anyone easily.
She realized, with a swooping sense of elation, that the grim events of June 15th were no match for a fortnight's pent up energy. Restless determination ran electric through her as she sat before Bones's desk, waiting to be dismissed. There were mistakes to mend, points to prove, Death Eaters to chuck in Azkaban.
"Nymphadora, dear, I'll need you to stop that."
She snapped back to focus on the office, finding Bones's slightly exasperated gaze fixed on her. She realized, belatedly, that her foot was bouncing, the heel of her trainer beating out an irregular tattoo against the wood of the floor. She endeavored to sit perfectly still and behave attentively.
"Signature on this, and you're officially back," Bones added, pushing the freshly written report and a quill across the desk. Tonks signed at the bottom with a flourish, purposefully looping her letters together in fancy joined-up script because she knew the superfluousness would annoy Fudge the most. Bones sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose in response.
"Such a nice, quiet three weeks it's been…."
To Be Continued...