A/N: This is an AU (obviously) because Fleur and Tonks have survived past the war. Though it's not ever stated in the story, here's what I imagine happened: Tonks married Remus, and Fleur married Bill. However, both men died over the course of the war. Tonks and Fleur, being similar in age and now in similar positions as young widows, became close friends. Over time, they grew into more. Eventually, we wind up here in this story. So, Tonks was married to a werewolf, and Fleur was married to a man attacked by a werewolf, which explains the letter Fleur is writing here.

Also (because someone is sure to mention this in a review), my decision not to write Fleur's French accent is intentional. Generally speaking, I don't like written dialect.

Content notice: (very) brief reference to blood and prejudiced views towards werewolves

Fleur let out a loud sigh that was as much a request for attention as it was a sign of frustration. Tonks looked over from where she was busy taping down the last bit of wrapping paper on the Christmas gift she was wrapping. Fleur sat across from her at the table, tapping the tip of her quill against the wood as she stared at the kitchen wall. She didn't care that it was leaving splatters of ink on the table as she debated how to word her letter to the editor. She'd been determined to write it the second she'd seen the headline in that day's issue of the Prophet, but the right words wouldn't come to her.

"I wish I was as creative as you," she said, sensing Tonks' gaze without looking away from the wall.

Tonks placed the roll of tape she was holding on the table. Her brow creased as she frowned at her wife.

"Creative?" she asked. "I'm not creative though. I'm just an Auror. Artists and those kinds of people are creative. Not me."

A small smile was on Fleur's lips as she focused her gaze on Tonks. Though they'd been together for years, Tonks couldn't stop her stomach from tightening at the fondness in the way Fleur looked at her. There was always a softness there that few other people showed Tonks because they didn't think of her as soft at all.

"You have to be creative," Fleur said, pushing her parchment to the side. "You can change your appearance at will. That takes creativity. I could never dream up all the different looks you do, but you can put together a new identity in seconds. That's tremendously creative."

Tonks was still confused. She thought back to the countless times she'd changed her appearance, trying to connect the idea of creativity to what was instinctual to her. It didn't fit.

"It's just natural," she said, drawing out the words as she considered it. "Being a Metamorphmagus is something you're born with. I've been changing my appearance since I understood that was what I was doing. That doesn't feel like creativity to me; it's just me being me."

Fleur's smile widened, and she shrugged.

"That just means you're naturally creative, ma chérie. Whether you've noticed it before or not."

Tonks chewed on the inside of her cheek as she thought about the easy way new faces came to her when she needed them. It was true that she could invent full identities with ease, though she didn't come up with every detail of their life as she underwent the change like some assumed she did. Rather, she pieced their story together as she went, coming up with each detail at the moment she needed it. She'd always known she was thinking on her toes. She'd never thought of it as creative though. Most of the details she used were pulled from real people she knew and weren't something she'd created at all.

"I guess being an Auror is kind of creative," she said slowly, thinking mostly of the elaborate plans that were sometimes needed to make things work, though she didn't typically help with those plans. Her strength had always been in espionage because of her Metamorphmagus abilities and in spite of her inability not to trip over things. She didn't often make plans herself, and she'd always assumed she didn't have the right skill set for it.

"You have to run around after criminals, think one step ahead of them, and not get yourself into trouble. Or get yourself out of it when you do," Fleur said. "Of course it's creative. My job, on the other hand, is writing out numbers and client data to make sure Gringotts runs smoothly. It's as uncreative as it gets, and I haven't been flexing the muscle properly. Now I need to write this," she motioned at her parchment, "and I don't have a clue what to say."

Tonks bit into her cheek with enough force that the metallic taste of blood hit her tongue. She tried to think of ways Fleur used creativity at Gringotts but couldn't come up with a thing, which made her feel guilty. However, she hadn't thought of being an Auror that way either, so she was sure there was something she could be missing.

"You'll figure it out," she said softly.

Reaching out for what Fleur had managed to right so far, she scanned the parchment. She'd already had a good sense of what Fleur wanted to say, but she was impressed with the way Fleur had pieced her thoughts together.

"This is fantastic!" Tonks exclaimed with a smile. "There's not a person alive who could read this and still think the werewolf registry should exist. Hermione will be ecstatic when this is published. It'll really help her case."

When she looked back at Fleur, it was to find her wife beaming back at her.

"Thank you," Fleur said, uncharacteristic shyness in her voice.

One thing Tonks had learned early on in their relationship was that Fleur got uneasy when complimented for anything that wasn't her looks. It had led to a long tradition of Tonks complimenting absolutely anything she could that wasn't Fleur's appearance, though she had plenty of compliments about that too.

"I'm only saying what anyone would." Tonks pushed the parchment back to Fleur. "You have something brilliant here. Honestly, I don't know what you're worried about. That had to take creativity. I couldn't string words together like that. If I were the one writing the letter, I'd just end up with something like, 'You're all bigoted idiots. This law needs to burn,' or something like that."

Fleur's cheeks were a light pink as she smiled down at the parchment. She began tapping her quill against the tabletop again as she thought. Tonks couldn't help but smile at her for a moment, feeling the same wonder she always did that she'd been lucky enough to find Fleur during what had been the darkest period of her life.

"Thank you," she said quietly, leaning forward and capturing Fleur's gaze. "You're always helping me learn about myself. 'Creative' was one word I never would have used to describe myself, but you made it make sense somehow. I don't know how you do that, but you always do."

Fleur bit her lip to keep her own smile from growing too large. She reached across the table to intertwine her fingers with Tonks' own.

"You do the same for me," she said, voice full of emotion. "You see me in ways few other people do. I know that I talk a big game about being more than a pretty face, but sometimes, it's hard for me to believe what I'm saying. You never see me that way though. Honestly, I don't think I'd have the courage to write something like this for the Prophet if you hadn't been adamant that I could do it."

Tonks gave Fleur's hand one last squeeze before pulling away, picking her tape up, and ripping off a large piece.

"Yeah, well, it's difficult to be fooled by outward appearances when you're a Metamorphmagus."

The two women shared one more smile before they returned to their work.

Prompts:

Hogwarts Challenges and Assignments

Seasonal Challenge - Ravenclaw Themed Prompts: (trait) creative

Advent Calendar: Tonks/Fleur

The Golden Snitch

Second Anniversary: (word) run

Word count: 1,209