ORLANDO
AUTHOR NOTES:
The idea for this fic came to me while talking to the very very lovely Hanneberry, my fic partner in crime who'll probably refuse to read HP fics.
The boy!Tonks is not actually mine – I nicked it off the lovely ks!. I'm giving it a different direction, though.
DISCLAIMER: The characters ain't mine. They're JKR's (whyyy?!)
I
Orlando
"We may take advantage of this pause in the narrative to make certain statements. Orlando had become a woman—there is no denying it. But in every other respect, Orlando remained precisely as he had been. The change of sex, though it altered their future, did nothing whatever to alter their identity. Their faces remained, as their portraits prove, practically the same." – Virginia Woolf
Tonks was staring at herself in the mirror, and a seventeen-year-old girl was staring back at her. A girl with a bob dyed in a flamboyant shade of red, more like wine-coloured, that perfectly matched her light blue eyes.
She closed her eyes, the mirror dissolving into darkness and few spots of light underneath those curtains of flesh.
When she opened them again, the pouty flapper had given way to a girl with a bright green Mohawk and a scar on her face.
Another flash of darkness, and then a girl with flowing blonde hair. And then another, and then another. All pieces of an identity.
The "look roulette", as Tonks called it, was a little game she enjoyed playing with herself whenever she had free time. Basically, she would try to come up with random looks and surprise herself.
Tonks was a metamorphmagus, meaning she could change her appearance at will. What had been her parents' nightmare when she was younger, soon became Tonks greatest advantage when asking Hogwarts' boys out. Not that she asked out many too successfully, because a lot recognized her as "that crazy girl".
Yet, she still had hope. She had her eyes set on Tucker Rowe, a 7th year Ravenclaw.
Oops, Tucker.
He popped into her mind.
When she closed, then opened her eyes, suddenly she looked at a mirror and saw a boy. Tonks had often wondered what she'd look like as a boy, and once, when she was very little, she'd been one for a day. But never permanently, because Tonks was a girly girl sometimes, regardless of her dyed hair and ripped jeans and glam rock (mostly David Bowie and T.Rex) t-shirts. How Bowie.
She analysed the new reflection from different angles. Not too bad, she looked rather enffeminate, but then again… she was a David Bowie fan.
"Hey Tonks, I--" Marty Posner, Tonks' friend with benefits, stepped into the secret abandoned girl's bathroom. "Jeez. Who are you, lad?"
"Huh, Marty?" Tonks stared at him in the mirror. "It's me, Tonks. Look at my clothes."
If the boy were not wearing Tonks' uniforms and had not had a strange, squeaky voice, Posner would have called himself crazy.
Instead, he walked up to the sinks and stared at himself in the cracked mirror.
"Geez, Tonky, how'd y'a do that?" Posner asked, truly intrigued as he leant against the sink and lit up a Filibuster's Filters Eugenia aromaticum cigarette with a flick of his wand. "I'd do you."
Tonks nudged him, still staring at her reflection. She definitely would, too, but that would count as masturbation. "No way, Poz."
Truth is, Tonks found herself to be a fairly decent-looking boy (and being a girl in a boy's uniform only added to it). Actually, she couldn't help but wonder how if it'd work among her fellow witches.
"Hey, Poz?" She called, turning to him, and nicking a cigarette off his pocket, clumsily. "Do you reckon I'd have a fair chance with Trish Shooty like this?"
"Not a chance." Posner replied with a grin.
A/N: Yes, I know this is a sort of prologue, but it's okay. Review, please!