A/N: Fair warning ahead, the next chapters are going to get kind of rough for poor Tonks as she deals with the aftermath of her attack and its consequences, though what happened to her WAS an accident, that doesn't mean the rest of the world sees it that way.

I wanted to show just what the wizarding society (outside of those in the Order and her coworkers at the Ministry that she trusts) thinks of werewolves so we're going to see a little bit of that prejudice for the next couple of chapters, though I promise I won't let anything too bad happen to Tonks!

She's my favorite character and I don't enjoy seeing her suffer much, or at the very least, at least not without someone being by her side for all of this that's ahead.

Anyways, on with the show! :)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Two weeks following the aftermath of Tonks's attack, on Friday morning, just as she had all throughout the week, Tonks was still mulling over Norah Jameson's words to her earlier in the St. Mungo's hospital room, how her life would change, to forget her life as she knew it, as that life was now over with.

She hadn't really been able to think of much else, though Molly and Ginny had graciously stopped by their cottage with a homemade casserole for the two of them, and Mrs. Weasley had insisted on dragging Tonks to Diagon Alley with her and her daughter to shop for a new dress for Bill and Fleur's wedding upcoming next week.

Tonks had managed to find a long black maxi dress in Madam Malkin's shop that would suit her needs well and hide her pregnancy.

Just until she was ready to announce their news, that she and Remus were becoming parents, to the rest of the Order later on. She sighed as soft rays of sunlight from the egg-yolk sun filtered in the light through the window of their bedroom in their cottage.

The window managed to soften the harsh, almost blinding rays before it rested on their bed, as gentle and as soothing as a kiss would be. It threw the beams of yellow gold across the covers of their quilt just as easily as it cast lingering long shadows in the folds of the fabric of the bedcover, mapping out Tonks's body as it pressed against her, the blanket the only current barrier between herself and the cold bedroom.

Tonks had quite forgotten they had slept with the window open last month to allow fresh October air to waft in through their cottage and air the place out.

She was tired and nauseated from the harsh, disgusting smell of the thick green paste-like ointment that Lupin had been commanded by the St. Mungo's Healer to dab onto the scars on the right side of her neck to minimize scarring.

Their wine-colored comforters were perhaps the softest thing that Tonks had ever slept on in her entire life. Remus's father had given them to the couple upon learning the two were expectant parents in another nine months or so and had insisted on finding the warmest comforter that his money could buy, in order to ensure the mother of his future granddaughter or grandson stayed warm and healthy throughout the colder months as fall dragged on in Great Britain at its petty pace.

Tonks would have been perfectly content to lay in bed all morning, to drown herself in the pleasant sensation if it weren't for Remus still asleep next to her.

Tonks slowly rolled over back on her side to look at Remus, the only sign the man was still alive was the steady rise and fall of his chest, and occasionally a muted little grunt.

Her lips slowly etched upward into a soft smile as she saw that her husband was still deeply asleep.

Remus, due to his full-time duties for the Order of the Phoenix for Dumbledore, for which the man paid him a decent salary, Merlin bless that man, often rose with the sun and started his day way before Tonks did, but this time, she was awake first and decided to take advantage of the momentary peace and tranquility to watch.

Tonks bit the inside wall of her cheek as she shifted, having to prop herself up on her elbow to look at Remus, trying to be as quiet as a mouse so as to not wake him up.

Whenever Remus would catch her staring at him like this, he would more often times than not start to tease her and tell Tonks to cut it out, to stop bewitching him and putting him under her spell, though now this was a rare opportunity for her to observe Remus undetected, and Tonks aimed to take full advantage of the minute while it lasted.

The dark wine color of their bed's comforter made Remus's pale skin stand out in contrast, with spots of color from his thick tuft of short dark hair evident to see.

Tonks blinked owlishly as she noticed changes that she had not noticed before. Either she'd never paid close enough attention or this had simply been overlooked by her.

She was surprised to see that Remus looked younger, the hardened lines on his face from somewhat of a stressful life of constantly fretting and worrying after Tonks's well-being were softened in sleep like this, and almost looked to the young Auror and witch practically non-existent.

Now that he wasn't awake and scowling every time Tonks put herself into somewhat precarious positions, much as they had feared this new one would.

Though she did not want to admit it to herself, she had a feeling agreeing to help that blonde She-Wolf who had visited her in St. Mungo's a week ago, that by helping track down her son, who was undoubtedly in the clutches of Fenrir Greyback, that their lives were about to become much more complicated.

And Tonks was not about to back down on her promise, no matter how dangerous this new life would get. Abandoning the job now just because there was a very strong likelihood that she would eventually run into Greyback, given she and Remus had already agreed to help Norah Jameson, or had been from the start, meant not being there for Norah, and considering Tonks had already agreed to help, if only for the sake of her husband, Tonks was not about to abandon Remus when he needed Tonks's help the most.

She knew Lupin still blamed himself, and until he was able to come to terms with it on his own, then she was just going to have to find subtle and small ways to show that it wasn't.

No way, she thought and ground her top molars until they clenched tightly shut. Tonks blinked and forced her gaze to return to that of her sleeping husband, her eyes inexplicably drawn to the divot of Remus's lips.

He was a handsome man, and Tonks wondered if before she had come along if there were any other witches in his life who he had broken their hearts when he had rejected them out of fear of not wanting to endanger their lives due to his condition.

For an inexplicable moment, at that unpleasant thought, of the idea with Remus with another woman, any other but her, Tonks felt a stab of jealousy prick at her heartstrings, and she swallowed down hard as she tried to quell and tamper the unnecessary, sudden feeling.

Remus was with her. Not Hestia Jones, not Emmeline Vance. Her. Just her. This strange, unfounded spark of jealousy just had to stop. It wasn't like her at all.

Tonks let out the tiniest of sighs as her glistening gray eyes traced along with Remus's pale features, smiling softly at each and every one of them, and finally, her gaze landed on his slender, straight nose.

Tonks had always loved his nose next to his glistening light brown eyes, his best feature along with his dark thick hair, and had to restrain herself from kissing it, touching it, bopping him on the nose whenever she was in a 'mood.'

She loved to trace it with the pads of her fingertips. Luckily, she'd done so once during an Order meeting earlier, but that was a few days ago already, and Remus was long overdue for another one.

Perhaps just one…?

Tonks bit down on her bottom lip and slowly leaned forward. Surely, Remus was too deep in sleep to notice just one small, featherlight touch. He was still asleep, after all.

Though before she could lightly tap his nose with the pad of her left index finger, his soft voice cut through the otherwise silent atmosphere of their bedroom.

"I can feel you staring at me, Dora," Remus's voice murmured sleepily. Tonks jumped and let out a squeak, frightened by the sudden murmur that came from her husband.

Tonks's gaze darted upwards, drawing in a breath of cool fresh autumnal air that sent a chill down her spine, only to see Remus's darkened brown eyes wide open and staring at the young witch who held his heart captive, regarding the young auburn-haired beauty and her reaction to learning that he had, all this time, not been deep in sleep, after all. She guiltily tried to move away, feeling ashamed for having woken him up, fully intending to get out of bed and take a shower and get dressed to head out for work, or she'd be late, but his hand came out and slid across her hips, gripping onto the fabric of her pajama pants, stalling her movements and effectively preventing her from getting out of bed right now.

Though when Remus slowly smiled at her, Tonks felt the tension in her shoulders leave her and she felt herself offer her husband a grin of her own.

"I never said I didn't like it, Dora," Remus murmured huskily with a low smile. He reached up a strong hand to stroke underneath her chin and cup it firmly in his hand, forcing Tonks to look at him. "And now it's my turn."

Before Tonks could react, he brought her down to kiss him, pulling the wine-colored blankets back over her with his other hand as he did so tenderly.

Arthur Weasley furrowed his brows in a frown as he headed down the hallway from his cubicle in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office and headed towards none other than the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic's office. Dolores Jane Umbridge. It was nearing the end of his workday, going on 4:30 p.m., so he wondered what the Senior Undersecretary to Rufus Scrimgeour wanted with him, exactly.

Arthur clenched his teeth and ground them in anger as just the thought of the stout witch's name who favored pink plastered a quiet vibration underneath his skin and made it crawl. What on Merlin's green earth does she want with the likes of me? I've done nothing… He thought, his anxiety worsening the closer he got to Dolores Umbridge's door. He paused, straining his ears for more sounds, and if he listened close enough, he could hear faint, muffled voices coming from inside.

Arthur heard the baritone voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt and the soft, quiet susurration that sounded like a fresh breeze that he recognized immediately as Tonks's voice.

Mr. Weasley's frown deepened as he mulled over how upset she sounded. His brows knitting together, he raised his knuckles to knock, though before he even could, there was a clicking of the locking mechanism and the door swung wide open, revealing Dolores Jane Umbridge seated behind her mahogany desk, her wand pointed directly at the door, and a soft, simpering smile on her face.

Though Arthur was not fooled. He knew this woman was a true witch in every literal sense of the word, that she took sick delight in causing misfortune.

"Ah. Arthur. You got my memo, then, I take it? You're right on time, dear," Dolores Umbridge simpered in a sweet and honeyed voice, dripping with ire.

Arthur nodded mutely, not sure what to say, though judging by the look that Kingsley Shacklebolt and Tonks were shooting him, whatever he had been summoned here for, it was not going to be a pleasant meeting, this he knew.

"Please. Come in, come in, and have a seat. Would you care for some tea and biscuits, Mr. Weasley? You're looking a bit peaky, Mr. Weasley. Are you hungry, dear?" Umbridge made a point of asking, all the while waving her wand and conjuring a mug of steaming hot tea along with a plate of cookies.

Still keeping that insufferable smile plastered onto her pudgy features, she shoved the plate of cookies and the teacup on its saucer across her desk at Arthur as he waved his wand and conjured a chair, pulling it up so that he was seated to Tonks's immediate left, while Kingsley remained seated on her right.

He wasn't but thought it ill manners to refuse the offer from the Senior Undersecretary, who reported directly to Minister Scrimgeour, now that Cornelius Fudge had been forced out of office due to the general public screaming for his resignation once the public learned the truth that Sirius was innocent. Begrudgingly and with great reluctance, he numbly accepted the tea and the small plate of cookies, though he made no move to eat or drink at all.

Mr. Weasley hated to think this as he looked at their Senior Undersecretary, but Umbridge was an unpleasant woman. Dolores Jane Umbridge was not overly old, but her body had aged passed her years so much that she now wore the wizened features of an old crone, and not a nice one either.

No sage was she come to offer wisdom to those who sought her advice. Her short brown curly hair framed her aging and lined face that no amount of makeup could conceal. Her forehead was wrinkled by many peaks and trenches—caused by years of consistent scowling—which unflatteringly crowned eyes that permanently harbored a disdainful glower, shadowing their uniquely beautiful shade of brown, perhaps Umbridge's only redeeming feature was her eyes.

Her entire face seemed drained of any signs of joy and amusement, and instead, her frumpy cheeks told a tale of regular, consistent displeasure.

And right now, it would seem, as Mr. Weasley shot cautious glances at Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin out of the corner of his eye while trying to remain as discreet as possible, that the stout witch's rancor was directed solely at Tonks.

Dolores Jane Umbridge coughed once in a simpering tone to clear her throat that in all honesty sounded to Mr. Weasley like more of a high-pitched schoolgirl giggle, and she still wore that fake smile that tugged her pink-lipstick coated lips upward, but it sent a tremor of revulsion, disgust, down his back.

"I assume, Mr.'s Weasley and Shacklebolt, that you know why I have summoned you both here?" she began, speaking very slowly and clearly, as though she were addressing twelve-year-old children instead of fully grown adult wizards in their forties. Kingsley offered a curt nod of his head, his expression grim and his lips pursed into such a thin line, they almost disappeared, whereas Arthur proceeded to raise his eyebrows in confusion.

"No, Madame Undersecretary," Arthur murmured, thinking it best in this unpleasant scenario to tell Dolores Umbridge the truth, given who she reported to. The last thing he needed was to give an excuse for the Minister to fire him.

Dolores regarded Arthur in silence for a moment, before her gaze flitted to Tonks, seated in the middle, with either wizard flanking both sides of the girl.

The edge of her lips was pushed upward, scrunching her left eye up, making the brown of her iris appear almost black, which Arthur thought appropriate.

Now the color of her eyes matches her black heart, Mr. Weasley thought rather meanly, feeling immensely grateful that Dolores Umbridge was no skilled Legilimens and could not read his mind, for she would have perhaps suspended him or fired him just for thinking that unpleasant thought of his.

Her lips parted a centimeter, yet the faked smile on her pudgy, stout features made Umbridge appear much too arrogant, like any witch in power.

"No?" she simpered in her honey-sweet voice dripping with venomous sarcasm. She fumbled for a moment with one of the drawers of her desk before procuring a simple manilla envelope and sliding it across the desk to Arthur. "Perhaps that will help refresh your memory, my dear," Umbridge snapped.

The thick uncomfortable silence that lingered in the air as Dolores allowed her words to hang in the air engulfed Mr. Weasley's conscience as he allowed a small sigh of anxiety to escape the confines of his chest, throat, and lips as he reached with somewhat trembling fingers and flipped open the envelope.

He heard Tonks draw in a sharp, rattling breath and her small gasp of surprise as her medical chart and release papers from St. Mungo's poured out onto the desk's surface, as well as moving photographic evidence of Tonks's attack. Healers no doubt had taken the pictures during her stay in the hospital, no doubt to use as reference in order to treat the bite wounds on her neck.

A muscle twitched involuntarily at the corner of his right eye, his mouth forming a rigid grimace as he wordlessly handed the envelope back to Umbridge, who silently accepted it without a word, clasping her hands together and waiting for Arthur to find his words. But how in Merlin's Beard could he?

What was he to say to all of this? That Umbridge had somehow managed to obtain what should have otherwise been classified as private documentation of Tonks's admittance into St. Mungo's following the aftermath of her vicious mauling? That Dolores was now prying into the personal life of a fellow friend and Order member (though he dared not reveal that last bit) and was now about to witness Remus Lupin's wife suffer even more for it because of her?

Mr. Weasley felt his heart sink to the pit of his already churning stomach as a coil in his gut twisted. This was not going to bode well for his friend and co-worker, he could already tell by the quiet, smoldering rage that was gathering in Dolores Jane Umbridge's darkened brown eyes that they looked black.

He glanced sideways out of the corner of his vision at Remus's wife. One look over at Tonks was more than enough for Arthur.

A cold sweat had begun to glisten on her furrowed brow. With her hands clasped tightly in front of her stomach, the poor thing constantly fiddled with her knuckles, weaving her fingers in and out of each other, and when that no longer worked, she shoved her knuckles in her mouth and bit down hard, and then began to toy with a lock of her loose wavy hair (it had not escaped Arthur's attention that Tonks had now taken to wearing her shoulder-length, layered hairstyle loose in order to hide the scars on her neck and conceal the truth from her coworkers here at the Ministry.), a rich vibrant red this morning, and began to toy with it incessantly.

Tonks had never allowed Umbridge to see her with pink or purple hair.

To the best of his ability, Arthur recounted if Dolores even knew the truth about Nymphadora's abilities as a Metamorphmagus, as she had always been seen in Umbridge's company with her shoulder-length hair various shades of reds, browns, sometimes blondes, all 'natural' colors in Umbridge's eyes, at least.

Arthur thought the young witch was dressed respectably this morning in a long-sleeved V-neck black silk blouse, a pair of long black flared trouser pants, no doubt to hide the evidence of her mauling, all of the various black and blue bruises on her legs that were still healing from her attack, and her hair (as usual) was loose, and a rich red coppery color this late afternoon, hiding her neck wounds. Respectable and professional in every sense of Tonks's look.

When Umbridge spoke, her voice had lost its false, matronly tone, and now, as she directly addressed Tonks personally, her voice was clipped, hardened.

"You have been concealing the nature of your disgusting condition, Mrs. Lupin, in addition to the fact that you have failed to bring to the Ministry's attention, that you have illegally married the werewolf Remus John Lupin."

Tonks made an odd little strangled noise at the back of her throat that sounded like a whine as she continued to toy with the lock of her hair in between her thumb and forefinger, as she bit down on her bottom lip, seeming like she was blinking back the onset of tears and fighting the urge to cry.

She slowly lowered her hand and clutched onto the strap of her black purse tightly, her fingers curling into fists around her bag as she held it to her chest.

As though it were her only lifeline, and the muffled whimper that escaped from her throat sounded like that of a wounded pup after it had been kicked.

"Madame Undersecretary, it's… what happened to me was an accident," Tonks began, her soft voice barely above a whisper. "Just—just give me a chance to explain, please," she begged, biting her bottom lip in anguish.

But Umbridge pursed her lips into a thin line and held up her hand, effectively cutting the young Auror off from speaking further. Arthur shot a concerned look with Kingsley, though they knew it was not their place to speak up, as heartbreaking as this situation was for Tonks. They too would lose their jobs if they spoke out against Umbridge, and Arthur's family counted on him.

And as for Kingsley, his wife was pregnant with their first child, due any day now, and for him to so suddenly lose his job before the birth of his son or daughter would be a tragedy, though he knew this was even worse for Tonks.

"There is nothing to explain, my dear," Umbridge growled in a much more menacing tone than before, all traces of warmth and false sympathy were gone.

Arthur's blood boiled, anger surging through his veins, and he clenched his teeth in the effort to remain silent. He knew that Kingsley was struggling to remain mute as well, he could tell by the way the man's jaw muscles twitched.

"You have purposefully omitted vital information from the Ministry in regards to matters of your personal health which pose a danger to everyone around you, Mrs. Lupin, and you have not been forthcoming in matters surrounding your illegal marriage towards the werewolf, Remus Lupin," Umbridge spat, crinkling her nose in disgust and licking her lips to moisten them. "You thought you could hide this from me, dear? Did you honestly for a moment believe that you could keep your status as a newly-turned werewolf a secret, Nymphadora? Did you truly think that you would just get away with this, that I would not know, dearie? Do you take me for a fool, is that it, Mrs. Lupin?"

Umbridge shook her head sadly and clucked her tongue in disappointment, as though she had just expected Tonks to do the right thing and come to Umbridge with the truth, knowing full well what it would mean for her and Remus if she had done so right from the start.

"I don't think so. Neither of you registered under the Act the moment your little…accident occurred. Your very presence within the Ministry's walls is a threat to the Ministry's employees, Mrs. Lupin, and we cannot have that now, can we dear? No.…" Umbridge let out a high-pitched sigh of disappointment.

Tonks swallowed down hard past the growing lump in her throat as it hollowed and constricted, and suddenly, she felt like she couldn't breathe.

She could hear her breaths hitch and catch in her throat, and the tightening of her throat and her sudden, short intake of breath forecast the explosion of emotions following her accident, which, to date, Tonks had managed to suppress and keep buried deep within, not wanting Remus to worry further.

Not anymore though, as the emotions currently raging war within the confines of her chest as her heart pounded relentlessly against its cage, and the throbbing of her temples, was too powerful and gut-wrenching to be kept in check. The tearing at her very soul was way too compelling and energetic to be contained.

The vision she still had, began to swim in front of her as tears welled from deep inside and coursed down her cheeks, and she didn't care if Arthur or Kingsley saw it. Tonks felt more wet hot tears fill up her eyes as her throat closed tight and each word pitched higher than the last in the vain effort to squeak out the words that were bottled up, pent up inside of her chest.

"Y—You're firing me?" she squeaked, her voice breathy and disbelieving. Her gaze briefly flitted from Kingsley and Arthur as she looked to the left and right, who both shot her sympathetic glances, though offered no remark. She turned back towards Umbridge and swallowed down past her growing lump. "Y—you can't fire me for being a werewolf, Madame Undersecretary, I—I'm pretty sure that's five kinds of illegal!" she protested, anger and fear welling deep within the churning pits of her stomach, and she tasted bitter bile as the acidic, disgusting layer of her stomach lining snaked its way up her throat. "What happened to me was not my choice!"

"It is not just about that matters surrounding your lycanthropy, Mrs. Lupin," Umbridge spoke up in a calm and collected manner as she laced her pudgy fingers together, her arms resting across the spotless surface of her desk. "Times have changed, Mrs. Lupin. You're an incredibly smart and gifted young witch. I do not think I need to tell you this, and yet, I will do so anyway, out of the goodness of my heart," she simpered, throwing Tonks a honey-sweet smile. "Alastor and Arthur here have expressed verbal concerns about your stamina upon your return to work so soon, less than two weeks after your discharge from St. Mungo's and—"

"Moody?" Tonks interjected before Umbridge could finish her statement, which Arthur could tell perturbed the Senior Undersecretary to no end, practically watching the fine hairs on her neck stand up. Tonks rounded on Arthur, pursing her lips into a thin line. "M—Mr. Weasley, did you say something to anyone here at the Ministry about what happened?" she demanded hotly, looking at Arthur with what Mr. Weasley could only perceive as venom in her piercing steely grey eyes, currently flashing cold, and glistening with unshed tears. "Moody said something to you?" she managed to croak out.

There was such a look of antagonizing hurt that Arthur could hardly bear it.

Umbridge paused, her lips pursing into such a thin, rigid line, that for a moment, her mouth almost disappeared entirely.

"In the wake of the Battle of Hogwarts and Lord Voldemort's defeat, the needs of the Ministry have changed. All performances are evaluated, and some of your colleagues have expressed concerns about your physical and mental stamina going forward regarding the nature of your new unfortunate condition, and your possible inability to keep up with the high, stressful demands that come with the requirements of being able to perform your job adequately, Mrs. Lupin. The largest considerations are, of course, budgetary, and the plain fact of the matter is, dearie, is that there is no room on the staff for a werewolf. Not even one of your skillset and experience, Mrs. Lupin. No exceptions can be made. You would only be putting yourself and your coworkers in a precarious position, not to mention in mortal peril if you were to accidentally attack one of them," Dolores went on to explain. "If that were to happen, my dear, you would be facing hefty fines, not to mention assuming responsibility in full for their medical coverages and would likely be looking of at least a minimum of a year's term in Azkaban Prison."

Arthur stiffened as Tonks did not immediately say anything, as she had a hand clamped over her mouth, her face twisted and contorted in disbelief.

Tonks's silent weeping was worse than a tantrum or screaming match. Her eyes welled up with such a sadness that her young years should not possess.

The silence of her cry was eerie as she sniffed like she had been forced to learn how to do this, and for all Arthur knew of his friend and coworker, she had. What would it take to mend a soul as damaged as that and who would try?

Mr. Weasley wanted to scoop her up and take her home, have Molly make Tonks a nice cup of tea until she felt safe enough to return home to Remus and tell the man of her unfortunate news, pour love into her until she felt safe enough to cry out loud when she felt hurt. But he was supposed to be stoic and collectible, immune to the weeping of a friend, and he could not react to this.

Tonks glanced down at her lap, one hand still clamped over her mouth, her face creased and her fist closed so tight she could feel the sweat trapped inside it as her hand that rested in her lap not covering her mouth as she tasted bile had started to violently shake. She coughed once to try to quell her tears.

"Please," she begged in a voice so faint it was barely a whisper as she slowly lifted her head and spoke directly to Umbridge. "Please don't do this. Please don't…take this away from me. I—I'm pregnant, Madame Undersecretary…."

Umbridge, however, remained unstirred and unfazed by Tonks's plea. She merely offered the young witch sitting on the opposite side of her desk a simpering smile.

"Yet another reason why I cannot allow you to remain gainfully employed at the Ministry, my dear. You are setting a terrible example for the rest of the wizardkind by having them believe it is perfectly acceptable to consort and mate with werewolves. Were you willing to, shall we say, 'rectify' this little problem immediately, there is a chance I might be persuaded to make special arrangements for you, dearie, and put in a word for you to find employment outside of the Ministry? Despite your accident, I have rather come to like you, Mrs. Lupin, and though I cannot allow you to remain employed here, that does not mean that I cannot put in a good word for you elsewhere."

Tonks's face drained of color and her lips parted open in shock. "Rectify the…" her voice trailed off as her mind struggled to process Umbridge's words.

Tonks opened her mouth to speak up as she finally realized what Umbridge meant, though no words came out. She merely proceeded to frown through her tears and grit her teeth in anger, and Mr. Weasley, sensing danger, reached out and laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder, though Tonks shrugged out of it.

"How dare you?!" spat Tonks, bolting from the chair she had been forced to sit in and almost overturned it in her haste to stand up, Kingsley and Arthur slowly following suit, each shooting the other cautious looks in case they needed to subdue Remus's wife, though Arthur sincerely hoped they wouldn't.

"Madame Undersecretary, you might not like werewolves, and I might be one, but you must be positively insane to think that I would even consider the idea of terminating my pregnancy, no matter what rules I have broken, Dolores! I—I would rather quit this place entirely than get rid of our baby!"

She staggered backward in her shock and outrage and would have fallen had Arthur not maintained a steady grip on both of her shoulders, firmly keeping her upright. Tonks craned her neck upward slightly to look the Weasley patriarch in the eyes and silently tried to thank Mr. Weasley with her eyes.

"Come away, Tonks," Arthur murmured into the shell of her ear, trying to keep his voice low so that only Tonks could hear him. "You don't need to do this. You will only be making your situation that much worse, Tonks. Come away," he urged, lowering one of his hands to tug at her arm, though Tonks yanked out of his grip and pursed her full lips into a thin, rigid line.

Tonks was panting and breathing heavily from exertion, but she did not reply. She turned away from Arthur and Kingsley and merely stared at Umbridge, her chin turned slightly upward, though there was no mistaking the look of defeat in Tonks's eyes and in her overall body language, Arthur thought.

Dolores Jane Umbridge slowly stood from her chair behind her desk, her posture tense and rigid, and her brows furrowed together in a heavy scowl.

The short, stout witch clad in a vibrant hot pink cardigan and dress huffed in frustration, and when she addressed Tonks, the edges of her voice were hardened, clipped, and her brown eyes were smoldering with fathomless rage.

"Rest assured, dearie, I cannot allow this undesirable behavior of yours to continue. Make no mistake, your actions for failing to register both you and your husband under the Werewolf Registry, and as a consequence of the fact that you have lied, not only to me, Mrs. Lupin, but your coworkers as well, I am afraid that I have no choice but to fire you. Your last paycheck will be sent to your home via owl post, and Mr. Shacklebolt and Mr. Weasley will escort you to your desk where you may gather up your belongings and you shall be removed from Ministry premises immediately," Dolores Jane Umbridge commanded.

Arthur bit the inside wall of his cheek as Tonks lowered her head, her moment of furious rancor immediately replaced with a sense of hopelessness.

He had never seen Remus's wife stand like this. Her loose shoulders shook, her hands hanging low, one of her fists curled around the strap of her black purse for support, making no attempt to conceal or even wipe away her tears.

Aside from her reddened, splotchy face, she was so grey-looking and her wavy, curly hair was as disheveled as a park underneath a pile of fall leaves.

Mr. Weasley had seen others cry like that, and in every single case, it was a transition from a person with hope to one totally without.

It was how Amos Diggory had cried when he'd lost his son, Cedric, it was how Molly had cried when Bill had been viciously mauled by Fenrir Greyback at the Battle of the Astronomy Tower at Hogwarts. It was a kind of crying, Arthur knew, that showed the scared child underneath, that the hurt has cut right back through the protective layers required in maturity and adulthood, and the second that Kingsley laid a gentle hand upon Tonks's shoulder, Tonks mentally snapped.

Without a word to either Mr. Weasley or Kingsley as a half-choked sob of misery escaped her lips, she flung the strap of her purse over her shoulder and stormed out of Dolores Jane Umbridge's office, slamming the door so hard behind her in her wake that the wooden door rattled in its hinges dangerously.

As Arthur and Kingsley silently exited Umbridge's office, sensing the stout witch was done with them both, Arthur felt a pang of guilt and misery prick at his heartstrings as he watched Remus's wife silhouette fade down the corridor.

Tonks was smart enough not to look back.

Ouch. Poor Tonks! :( I had to think for a while about if* Tonks would even be allowed to keep her job at the Ministry, and Umbridge, that old witch that she is, probably would have found out about Dora's attack sooner rather than later and would not have reacted kindly to it, and as such, in my mind at least, this was the end result...

Hopefully, Tonks will be able to find a new (and better) job soon, one that's kinder and more sympathetic and understanding as to the nature of her condition.