Mission
"Everyone knows what you're supposed to do?" A murmur of agreement. "Where you're supposed to be?" Another murmur. "And what your goal is?" A final murmur. "Right then, no point in bandying it about any longer. Off with you, and try not to get killed."
Good old Mad-Eye, Tonks mused. So encouraging. She'd never say it to his face, but his so-called 'retirement' had mellowed him. The Mad-Eye of her training days would never have accepted a murmur of agreement; indeed, anything less than a robust 'Yes, sir!' was cause for laps in those days. And then Tonks decided the war must have really gotten to her if she was starting to wax nostalgic about those three years of hell.
She drained her cup of pumpkin juice as the meeting of the Order-that-wasn't-the-Order split up. They really needed to come up with a name for themselves. Tonight's mission was a three-pronged strike at the Death Eaters; it would neither destroy nor cripple the group, but if successful, it would at hurt them as well as provide groundwork for future raids.
"Hold on," she said. "Everyone knows this is outside the law, right? If any of us get caught, the Ministry will want our arses as much as the Death Eaters."
"Then don't get caught," Mad-Eye said bluntly.
"I just want to make sure everyone knows where we stand."
"We all understand the risks," Kingsley reassured her, deep and slow. She nodded, mustering a smile, and pondered at her uncharacteristic fretting.
The first group, headed by Kingsley, set off. Accompanied by Mad-Eye's crony Edmund Plummer and the Weasley twins, they were to disrupt a black market supply ring used by those known Death Eaters who'd escaped Azkaban and were now living as fugitives. Ironically, it had been discovered by her father and his business partner Gustav as they prepared to set up their own underground supply of goods should Voldemort take over completely.
"Fred, George!" Tonks called while Edmund and Gus went over last minute details.
Two identical grins were bestowed on her. "To what do we owe the pleasure?" Fred queried.
"Be careful," she said without preamble. "Your mother will murder me if anything happens to one of you."
George waggled his eyebrows. "Such concern from a pretty lady. If I had someone like you to come back to, you'd have nothing to worry about. Alas, I have only his ugly mug to wake up to each day."
"Better looking than yours," Fred retorted.
Tonks laughed and gave each twin a kiss on his cheek. "There's another one waiting when you come back."
"I'll never wash my cheek again," George vowed solemnly, holding one hand to his face in mock rapture.
She laughed again as Kingsley summoned them and off they went. No matter how bad things got, the twins always had ready smiles and jokes, and that was an invaluable trait. As brave as they came and talented to boot, she couldn't imagine anything happening to one or both.
Mad-Eye left next, along with Hestia, Sturgis, and Amos Diggory. In perhaps the most dangerous mission of the night, their target was a living, breathing Death Eater, one of the few to have escaped Azkaban and therefore possibly one of the most dangerous. And, the belief was, one of the most knowledgeable.
The door closed behind Amos, and Tonks let out a measured breath. In five minutes her group would depart. Her group, as in three people under her command. Even the newest Auror had an edge over the average witch or wizard, and this particular mission was right up her alley. As the DMLE official who had interviewed her in her last year at Hogwarts had said, metamorphmagi might as well have been made to order for undercover infiltration.
She picked up the file containing their intel. She didn't know why; it was long since committed to memory. These missions had been in the works for months. With their own reconnaissance supplemented by filched Ministry dossiers, every team had more than enough to achieve their goals.
Surprising all, Mad-Eye said it had been Harry who had kicked everything into gear.
Tonks shut down those thoughts in a hurry. The less she lingered on him, the better. Jumping up, she nodded at Remus and Burke, tapping her watch. And as for the fourth member of the group… She stuck her head into the kitchen only to find that person saying a very thorough goodbye to her mother.
Blanching, she retreated, making sure to cough very loudly before returning. "Let him go, Mum, it's time."
"She's the boss," said Ted, giving his wife one last kiss. "And a very demanding taskmaster at that."
"Be careful, my love," replied Andromeda. "And you, too, Nymphadora."
Tonks allowed a brief hug, trying to disentangle herself when her mother tightened the embrace.
"We'll be fine as long as we aren't late. You know what they say: defer no time; delays have dangerous ends."
"Can't argue with that, whatever it means. We'll take care of each other and be back before you know it, Dromeda."
Finally Tonks was able to chivy him out the door. Meeting Burke and Remus in the garden, they departed from the apparition point one by one. She was last. Giving a long look to the figure she knew gazed out the kitchen window, she twisted on the spot and disapparated silently.
Kingsley made sure to keep several paces between himself and the Weasleys, tugging the cowl of his cloak further over his eyes. It wasn't uncommon for figures to be cloaked in Knockturn Alley, especially these days, and it wouldn't do for an Auror's presence to be known. Conversely, the twins were their bright and boisterous selves, but as practitioners in nearby Diagon Alley, no one would find their presence too remarkable.
They stopped to browse a stall outside an alchemist's shop. Kingsley kept his course, passing the twins without a second glance. All according to plan. The stop-and-pass maneuver was an indication that neither party had noticed anyone watching or pursuing.
He turned right, slipping into yet another district but didn't look behind him, trusting the twins followed. Deeper and deeper into the seedy underbelly of wizarding London they traveled until they switched leads again. Kingsley allowed the twins out of sight, knowing their destination. He entered the store next to their target. "Just browsing," he murmured to the eager sales assistant, keeping his head down and emitting an unfriendly vibe.
"If you need anything," the employee replied in an oily voice, backing away.
The store was otherwise empty, which was unfortunate as it meant the salesman would keep his eye on Kingsley. He'd have to find a way to shake him. Letting his browsing lead him to the window, he glanced at the street just in time to watch the twins enter the store next door. A few minutes later, a heavily disguised Edmund went in as well.
Excellent. Everyone was in place.
Tonks crossed her legs, making sure her skirt inched higher. Mark (No. Marcus. Definitely Marcus) was drooling over her already. All she needed to do was assure him she was a done deal, and they'd be on their way upstairs. Where, she knew, lay the true object of her desire.
The kid was an idiot, and that was putting it nicely. They were fairly certain he wasn't even a fullyfledged Death Eater yet, working as little more than a messenger, but even a messenger could be useful. And this one was dumb enough to have evidence of his activities.
Speaking of… He leaned forward with a lecherous grin. What was up with those teeth? She almost swore he had a bit of troll blood in him. "It's getting crowded in here. What do you say we go somewhere a bit more private?"
It was all she could do not to groan at the cheesy line. What film did he get that from?
Nevertheless, she could smell the whiskey on his breath a mile away, which would only make her job easier. "I thought you'd never ask, sweetheart," she replied, making sure to bring her own glass with her. If he wanted to use terrible, clichéd lines, she was more than up to the task.
Hand in hand, they headed upstairs to the rooms that resided over the seedy bar. She very much hoped she wouldn't actually have to touch the bed. In an establishment such as this, bed bugs were the least of her concerns.
They passed her father, hunched over and scowling at an empty glass. He wasn't keen on this plan at all, which she suspected was the reason he made sure to be attached to this mission. Well, he would have to deal. It wouldn't be the first time she had used the fact that she was a woman (and an ability to enlarge her breasts a full cup size) to her advantage.
Marcus led her to a room on the third floor. "We have the entire floor reserved for our use," he bragged.
"And you really work directly for… him?" she breathed. "Helping the cause?"
"Of course. I'd tell you more, but I can't. You understand." He winked.
This entire situation was laughable. She wanted to pinch herself to make sure she wasn't in some Bmovie detective flick; they might as well have been reading lines from a script. "You're so brave," she gushed.
"It's nothing. I'm only doing my part."
Opening the door, he gestured for her to precede him. She did so, trying not to grimace at the dingy furnishings and instead letting her gaze linger pointedly on the bed. Marcus caught her eye and smiled broadly.
Her returning grin wasn't fake at all. Oh yes, this would be fun.
Moody's magical eye roamed back and forth across the street in front of him. Nothing out of place that he could detect. The house was undoubtedly protected by strong wards, evidenced by the fact that even his eye couldn't pierce the walls. But Yaxley was there; he'd seen the Death Eater arrive with his normal eye.
Very well. If they couldn't get in, the only solution would be to make Yaxley come out. There were a variety of ways, of course, but often the most simple proved the most effective.
Moving as quietly as possible, Moody stumped toward a park down and across the road, taking care to ensure his invisibility cloak stayed in place. He had, of course, tested it before the mission. He tested it daily. Enviously Moody recalled Potter's invisibility cloak. Now that was a true tool, not like these cheap ones that would tear and fade. If he added up how much he'd spent on these cloaks throughout his career, he could probably afford a second magical eye. Not that he wanted—
he remembered only too well how ill the first had made him until he became used to the 360- degree visibility.
Sturgis sat on a bench, smoking and reading a newspaper. Moody whistled his approach before sitting, his only response a slight flutter of Sturgis' fingers as he continued to read his paper. Speaking through his teeth, he outlined his instructions. Under Polyjuice, Sturgis wasn't recognizable, whereas Moody had foregone disguise in favor of maintaining the useful advantage of his magical eye.
Sturgis crossed his legs when Moody finished speaking, acknowledging the orders. Moody was back in place across from the house before Sturgis came up, whistling as befit his borrowed appearance of a much younger man. Without any ado he strode to the front door and rang the bell.
Kingsley browsed the store slowly, a deceiving appearance as his mind worked rapidly. He nodded at the attentive employee as he passed before rounding a corner and stepping behind a tall shelf. He flicked his wand in the general direction of the ceiling, sending a charm in a long arc over the shelves of goods. The tinkling noise of breaking glass sounded from the front.
"Damn kids," the salesman muttered to himself as he hurried past.
The moment he was out of sight, Kingsley slipped past the till and pointed his wand at the door to the back of the shop with a simple unlocking charm. Standing behind it, he pulled the door shut until he could just peek out. When the salesman came back into sight, Kingsley pointed his wand at the front again, the result this time the sound of a shutting door. The salesman turned around again, giving Kingsley the time to shut and lock the door with a silent colloportus.
There. Now the employee would think Kingsley had left. He prowled through the dark storeroom silently, alert for other employees, but he arrived at the rear of the shop unmolested and undetected. He slipped into the empty alley and walked to the back door of the next shop. He wasn't so lucky in this shop. The owner, whom Kingsley immediately recognized as his target, sprang to his feet upon Kingsley's entrance.
"What the devil—?" he began angrily before Kingsley stunned him.
Kneeling over the prone figure, he whistled a certain pattern softly, his wand ready for any other employees. Less than a minute later Edmund made an appearance.
"About time, Shacks. Go on, then, the Weasley boys have it well in hand up front. They're keeping the employees more than occupied."
"Keep watch," Kingsley instructed.
Blocking out his surroundings and attuning his mind to a singular task, Kingsley stared at the unconscious store owner and black market dealer. It was easier when the subject was awake and thus able to establish eye contact, but he gritted his teeth and set to it.
Had the Auror been aware of the passing of time, he would have known it wasn't long. He knew exactly what he sought, and once he found the memories of dealings with Voldemort and the Death Eaters, he conjured a vial, depositing a copy of each memory inside it. It was a most meticulous process, and he was thorough. The task accomplished, he brought his wand to his subject's head, concentrating even harder. Modifying memories was much more difficult than finding them. Once he was satisfied the shopkeeper had no memory of working with Voldemort, he nodded at Edmund.
"Almost finished. You know the signal for the twins?" Edmund nodded, this time bringing his wand to bear on the storeowner just as Kingsley did. "Go ahead, Ed."
"Rennervate."
"Confundo," Kingsley murmured as soon as his eyes opened. They immediately turned hazy. "You will cease any and all illegal black market activities. You will close your shop and turn yourself in to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the Ministry of Magic. This will be of your own volition. You will not remember this encounter."
The (now former) black market dealer nodded vaguely. When Kingsley released him, he shuffled into his storeroom in a daze.
"Right, Shacks. Let's scarper before—"
A white spectral form in the shape of a chimpanzee floated into the room, opening its mouth and speaking with the voice of George Weasley. "Unwelcome visitors up front. We have a distraction prepared. Go on and we'll meet you back at HQ."
Edmund didn't need to be told twice, heading for the door, but Kingsley hesitated, glancing toward the front of the store. He really didn't want to leave the twins on their own with Death Eaters. However, they'd planned for this eventuality, and their role was to do just as they said. Distractions, Fred had said with a wink, were their specialty.
"Come on," Edmund urged.
With one last look of unease, Kingsley followed, making his departure down the back alley and into the main street several stores down. They had apparated away before an explosion rocked the street, leaving the store in flames.
"So" Marcus took Tonks' glass and set it on a table with his, wrapping his arms around her waist.
"Enough about the Dark Lord. Let's talk about you—and me."
"I'm just going to go, ah, freshen up," she said, slipping out of his grasp with a teasing smile. "I'll be right back. Finish your drink." She handed him a glass, making sure it was her own.
In the loo she slipped a small device that looked like a monocle out of her purse. Something the Weasley twins had developed after studying Mad-Eye's eye (and would never be for sale), this was only a prototype, but thus far it passed all tests. She held it to one eye and pressed against the door, drawing her wand from her purse at the same time.
The door gradually dissolved into the scene beyond, still fuzzy but clear enough. Marcus finished her drink, and after glancing at the bathroom, the one he thought to be hers. Prat. Then he sniffed his armpit—oh, gross—before facing the bed, preparing to turn it down. With his back to her, it was time for her move.
Dropping the monocle into her purse, she opened the door, her wand already halfway through casting with a curse on her lips. A jet of red light struck his back before he knew what was going on, and he dropped to the bed like a sack of potatoes.
Now for the distasteful part. She tugged his shoes and shirt off, tossing them on the floor, and then, wrinkling her nose, his trousers, leaving him in his pants and socks. Maneuvering him under the blanket, she made sure to muss the other side of the bed, twisting the sheets. Working quickly, she briefly turned on the shower and dropped a damp towel on the floor. Then she found a piece of parchment with a quill on the desk.
It's been fun, sweets, but I gotta run. Work calls. You were bloody amazing. Floo me! Left undisturbed, the drug she'd mixed in her drink would not only ensure that he slept until dawn but also that he woke with a massive hangover, hopefully enough to convince him he drank so much he blacked out. To be sure, she conjured an empty firewhiskey bottle, laying it on its side next to the empty glasses.
And now that Marcus was taken care of—on to the real business. His room was a mess, so she began to dig through piles of parchment and folders without too much care for putting it back in the exact place. Scribbled notes that made no sense, information on past meetings, names she already knew— nothing fit what she sought, what she knew he had. When the desk had been thoroughly searched, she turned to the wardrobe, then the bedside table. Nothing. Shit.
Clicking her tongue, she turned in a circle. Perhaps he wasn't quite as thick as she thought. But there was no way she was leaving empty-handed. Quietly leaving the room, she made sure the hall was empty before moving to the next door. A revealing spell and an unlocking charm later, she was inside, but it proved to be disused. Onto the next. It was in the third room, immaculate but full, that she hit jackpot.
"Bingo," she murmured, flipping through a folder. On surface it appeared to be just what she needed, and she was willing to be more was encrypted within. She pointed her wand at it to make a replica, intending to leave the copy exactly in the place she found it, not one centimeter out of place.
And that was when everything went wrong.
Some sort of blaring siren began to wail while at the same time replica after replica dropped to the floor, threatening to drown her in olive green folders. It didn't take a genius to realize the normal method of exiting the building was now a very bad idea, so she began to slog her way to the window.
A howl of rage at the door didn't make her stop, but it did make her look over her shoulder. A thoroughly bewildered yet angry Marcus stood in the doorway clad only in his underwear, still reeling from his drugged system.
"Sorry, sweets!" she yelled over the noise of the alarm, sending him flying backward with a flick of her wand. "It's just not going to work out."
She had just turned to face the window when someone shouted at her, deeper than Marcus. Tonks barely had time to pivot before a curse was in her face, blocked only at the last second, leaving her pressed against the glass. A burly man barreled toward her, his face contorted with anger. She dropped to one knee, disarming him, but he didn't stop his charge.
With only a split second to act, she pointed her wand at the still-multiplying mass of folders and yelled, "Confringo!"
Whether it was the blast or his original intention, the Death Eater crashed into Tonks, and both burst through the window, tumbling to the ground below.
After casting a silencing charm on his wooden leg, Moody stumped in double-time toward the door in front of which Sturgis stood. Damn leg could be a right nuisance at times, slowed him down and made a racket to boot.
He stopped at the foot of the steps leading up to the terraced house. Sturgis needed to draw Yaxley out of the house proper in order to bypass the wards; by the sound of it, he was doing just that.
They had fallen into some sort of argument, and Moody heard Yaxley spit the words "punk kid." A rustle to his left evidenced Hestia taking her position. Unfortunately it was audible to Yaxley as well, who glanced sharply where she stood under Moody's spare invisibility cloak. His hand went into his pocket, and Moody began to raise his wand.
Yaxley turned and tried to shut the door, but Sturgis put a hand on it. Quick as a flash, Yaxley spun, his fist darting out before Sturgis could react. Sturgis tumbled down the stairs, blood dripping from his nose when he flung up his head and snarled a taunt at the Death Eater.
Come on, you pillock, Moody urged the Death Eater. Step out the bloody door. Yaxley stared at Sturgis, whom he thought to be a young Muggle man with an attitude and a smart mouth, like he was something scraped off the bottom of his shoe. Moody had seen this superior attitude become the downfall of many a Death Eater in his time, and he hoped to add to the list. Drawing his wand, Yaxley took one step forward—
—And two jets of light lit up the sky, colliding with Sturgis in the middle. He flew into the air, dropping with a sickening crunch of some bone (or bones) in the street. There was no doubt in Moody's mind where the second spell came from. That bloody buggering fool. Whipping off his cloak, he sent an incarcerous jinx at Yaxley, who parried, eyes widening in recognition. His lip curled in a snarl, he dashed down the steps. Moody had him engaged before reaching the street, and the duel was on.
There was a reason Yaxley was their target. He was intelligent, talented, and cunning, a match for Moody, who gave no quarter and did not demand any in return. Fighting him required all of Moody's attention, and he gave it gladly, trusting Hestia to get injured Sturgis to safety. She, unlike Amos Diggory, was experienced, knowing exactly what (and what not) to do without having to be told.
The very small part of Moody's brain that wasn't occupied with fighting—and it was small indeed, for as much as Moody himself was uncommonly talented, as was his opponent—cursed Diggory again.
No chance the Muggles wouldn't notice, and if Yaxley had companions inside his house They fought their way into an alley, matching curse for curse, shield for shield. While Moody did his best to divert spells harmlessly if he couldn't return them to their source, Yaxley was under no such compunctions, and one could follow the trail of destruction. The experience of decades of fighting flowed between the two combatants with the most deadliest of beauty. Moody knew this would be his last war; he would probably be killed before the end, and all he cared was taking down as many of the enemy with him as he could.
Backing as rapidly as a man with a wooden leg could, he flourished a whip out of his wand, intent on yanking Yaxley off his feet. His opponent responded in kind and when the whips entangled, both dropped the spells, unwilling to risk losing their wands. Moody then blew up a section of the brick wall Yaxley ran alongside, peppering him with shrapnel and immediately pressing his advantage. Now Moody was on the offensive, directing the attack with the dancing rhythms of combat—curse and curse and curse and shield, countercurse, dodge and attack and parry.
They slashed at the same time. Blood splattered from Yaxley's torn robes, but Moody barely had time to see it as his world was turned upside down, his balance yanked from him. Flat on his back, he saw half of his wooden leg spiral through the air, sliced off as cleanly as a knife through butter. On instinct he rolled, a jet of light gouging the ground inches from his arm. So he couldn't stand. No matter, he still had his wand. No longer paying any mind to his own defense, he fired a barrage of curses and hexes. By the time the air cleared Yaxley was bleeding in a dozen places, his own leg incapacitated. Moody batted away a spell as effortlessly as if it were a fly, with grudging admiration for the determined caster, and raised his wand for the final, incapacitating blow.
Then he was blinded by a flash of green.
"Dora!"
Tonks blinked, groaning. Her back, her bum, her legs—her entire rear half felt like she'd been pricked by a hundred tiny knives. Surprisingly, her neck wasn't broken, which was normally what one expected when falling three stories.
The heavy body on top of her shuddered with a flash of red. Thundering footsteps approached.
"Dora!" her father shouted again.
"I'm alright, I'm alright," she gasped out. From the pain in her back, that wasn't entirely true, but she was alive and kicking.
The footsteps came to a nearby halt, three pairs of them by her estimation. "Don't worry, I've stunned him," said Remus' voice.
"That wasn't necessary." With a groan, she heaved the dead weight of the Death Eater off her own body, allowing the others to see the knife sticking out of the dark red stain on his chest. "Lost my wand when he hit me, but that's why I always have a secondary option." Even she couldn't explain how she'd managed to pull the knife out of the sheath on her thigh while they fell to the ground.
"Who slowed us down?"
"That was me," said Remus, offering her a hand up.
"Thanks, mate." Tonks resisted the urge to feel the wounds on her back, not keen on sticking shards of glass in her hand, too.
"Sweetheart, you're hurt."
"Flesh wounds, Dad. I don't suppose anyone will summon my wand for me before we get killed?"
"Accio Nymphadora's wand!" cast Ted.
A moment later a thin strip of wood flew toward them. Tonks caught it easily, shaking the feeling of being naked and vulnerable once her wand was back in her hand.
"Now that we're all caught up, shall we leave? I don't expect they'll have missed this," said Burke, who'd been standing off to one side.
"Yes, let's. I got what I wanted and covered my tracks."
The four set off for the back alley, where they could avoid meeting anyone until they reached an apparition point. Tonks went over the mission as she jogged, lingering adrenaline allowing her to ignore the pain, her Auror training kicking in as she mentally composed an after-action review. Her disguise was flawless; there was no way Marcus could connect her with her real identity. She had destroyed the proliferating files so they couldn't see what she took, and the one—
"Hey!"
About to round a corner, she spun, automatically dropping into a fighting stance and summoning curses. She had only enough time to let her eyes fall on a pursuer when he shrieked, holding his hands to his stomach to catch his exposed organs before dropping to the ground. Burke, behind her, withdrew the wand that he brandished like a sword, and she instantly knew what happened. "What did you do that for?" she hissed.
"To stop him from chasing us," he replied dryly, unconcerned with the life he had just taken.
"Then you stun him! I don't know what it was like in Timbuktu or wherever the hell you came from, but we don't kill people unless it's absolutely necessary. He could have been an innocent."
"Spare me your platitudes. Why would he chase us if he was an innocent bar patron? You can tell yourself whatever you like to soothe your conscience, but you and I are no different tonight. The sooner you accept you're a killer, the more efficient you become."
"He caught me! I had no wand and no other choice!" she began heatedly, her ears ringing.
In her periphery she saw her father advance. "Don't speak to my daughter like that."
"We can discuss this later." Remus' calm voice, ever the mediator, rose over the group. "And we will. But we can't change anything now, and if we're caught, this will all be for moot. Let's go."
Tonks couldn't even look at Burke as they resumed their escape. The bastard.
The sooner you accept you're a—
Only her own stubborn pride kept Tonks from crying out with relief when she appeared in her parents' garden. The twist of apparition had nearly pushed her past her breaking point with the stabbing pains in her back.
"Hold it."
Tonks remained still, although she didn't lower her own wand.
Hestia walked out of the shadows, her wand aimed squarely at Tonks' chest. "What's the first thing you ever said to me?"
Tonks grinned in memory of that early Order meeting. "I'm so sorry, because I had just done what?"
"Tripped down the stairs and knocked me over. Hello, Tonks. Mission go well?"
"In the end. And yours? You're back early."
Hestia grimaced. "Not so well. Sturgis was hurt; your mum is tending to him now. We had to leave Mad-Eye and Amos to it. Kingsley and Edmund returned a little while ago. They said it went well, but the twins stayed behind to distract the Death Eaters."
"What? He left the twins?"
Ignoring her injuries again, Tonks picked up the pace as she headed inside, leaving Hestia to check the rest of her group when they arrived.
"Kingsley? Kingsley!"
He and Edmund were seated at the kitchen table with large mugs of tea. "Tonks? What's going on?"
"Hestia said you left the twins. Why would you do that?"
"They made that decision," Edmund spoke up. "Don't get your knickers in a twist, girlie. They'll be back soon."
She rounded on him. "Girlie? Call me that one time."
"Tonks, calm down," Kingsley said firmly. "They're grown adults doing what the mission required, same as you or I. If anyone can give Death Eaters the slip, it's those two." He patted her back in what was meant to be a reassuring manner, but she couldn't stop a yelp the moment his hand touched her. "What the—turn around. Merlin, Tonks, is that glass?"
"I went out a window the wrong way. I'll be fine. Please don't call my—"
"Andromeda!"
"—mother, damn you."
Andromeda made an instant appearance from parts unknown in the way that only a worried mother could, and, clucking over Tonks' dismissal of her bloodied rear half, she soon took charge.
"Why you thought it was a good idea to go walking around like this, I'll never know."
"There are more important things than a few scratches," Tonks said impatiently. Laying facedown starkers while her mother picked pieces of glass out of her bum was not her best moment, and it made her tetchy. "How's Sturgis?"
Andromeda sighed. "He'll live, but he's going to be out of commission for a while. I had to guess at what struck him, and it was touch and go for a bit. By rights he needs to be in St. Mungo's; they have more resources than I, but Hestia convinced me not to take him."
"She was right. St. Mungo's may not be under Ministry control, but you can bet there are people there who would sell us out, both to Voldemort and to the Ministry." Andromeda continued her ministrations without comment, and Tonks twisted awkwardly, grabbing her hand. "Mum. I know what it feels like, but we're doing the right thing. You know that, yeah?"
"Of course I do. Now be still."
"Ow! That hurt."
"Such a drama queen," Andromeda scolded. "You drank an entire goblet of pain potion. You can't feel a thing."
"See how you feel when you have a shard of glass shoved up your—"
"Nymphadora!"
"Mother!"
"Dromeda!"
This unexpected shout, from outside the room, startled both mother and daughter until Ted walked in. "Dromeda, Alastor is back, and—"
"Dad?" Tonks said conversationally. "I don't think you want to see this."
"What? Oh! Good heavens!" He backed away, hand over his eyes, crashing into the door. "My apologies, sweetheart. I'll leave you ladies to it."
Andromeda and Tonks shared an amused glance before breaking into giggles. Once healed, Tonks was all but back to fighting strength, although she would be sleeping on her stomach for a few days. She walked, slightly stiffly, into the sitting room to find her mentor in the process of treating Amos Diggory to a dressing-down that brought back some not-so-fond memories of her training.
"He was a Death Eater!" Amos shouted with a crazed look in his eyes. "They all deserve to die!"
"I don't care what he deserves, he was a much better source of information than a meaningless death," Mad-Eye growled. "This is not an outlet for some personal vendetta of yours, Diggory. You deviate from the plan one more time, and you can very well Tonks, what's that bloody annoying phrase you use all the time?"
"Bugger off!" she supplied helpfully.
He nodded. "There you go. And furthermore, while Voldemort—oh, don't be a pansy, if you can fight him, you can say his name—while he has no loyalty toward his followers, he will not take the blatant murder of one of his inner circle in stride."
"Bloody hell," Tonks broke in. "You killed Yaxley?"
Kingsley stood, clearing his throat. It required little effort for his voice to penetrate any and all conversations. "Since we've all returned, shall we discuss our missions?"
Tonks sent him a dark look. "We've not all returned. How could you leave the twins behind?"
"I didn't leave them behind. We separated while they fulfilled their part of the mission. You have to trust them."
"We never leave anyone behind!" she shot back.
"Sit down and shut up, Nymphadora," Mad-Eye ordered.
And she did, obeying him in a manner she would no other.
Tonks went last, and she threw the folder on the table in front of her without comment when she finished her narrative, refusing to meet her mother's eyes that she knew without looking to be concerned. So she'd pulled a concealed blade and managed to twist it between herself and her attacker as they fell. So he'd landed directly on it. So that was that, and nothing more.
Kingsley retrieved the folder. "I suggest we all get some rest and convene a meeting in a few days to discuss tonight's events. By and large, our missions appear to have been somewhat successful, even with the unexpected events."
"Then where are the twins?" Tonks asked to a silent room.
Burke was the first to rise. "I expect you'll send notice of the next meeting," he told no one in particular. "Auror Tonks, a word?" She followed him to the foyer. "I sent my condolences about your partner along with Mr. Potter, but I don't suppose he shared them."
"No, he didn't, but thanks."
"I didn't expect him to."
"Yeah wait. When did you see Harry? Burke, answer me!" For he was already slipping out the door. She pondered giving chase but gave up before she started. Burke would give answers only on his own terms, and if he had wanted to tell her, he already would have. She rubbed her temples.
Harry, what did you get yourself into now?
An hour passed, then two. Refusing to leave until the twins returned, and debating on whether to indulge her growing desire to go find them, Tonks occupied herself with everything from giving Jabba a bath (as if she didn't have enough scratches on her already) to cleaning out her old closet to making a burned batch of biscuits.
Ted found her in the back garden, staring at the stars. "Making a wish?"
"I'd be more productive trying to learn how to fly by jumping off the roof."
"You already did that once, when you were eight," he remarked. "If I hadn't caught you, you would have broken your neck."
"I probably would have done it again if you hadn't bought me a broom."
"You always were a persistent child." Not receiving a response, he nudged her. "And jolly. What happened to my joyful little girl?"
"She grew up, got involved in a war, and killed people," she returned bluntly.
"Dora." She spun away from his touch, stalking back to the house. "Nymphadora Andromeda Tonks."
The ironclad parental command in his voice worked nearly as well at almost twenty-three as it did at eight, and she found herself turning reluctantly. "Yes?"
"Come back here." When she was within reach, he placed a hand on either shoulder before lifting her chin, gazing at her with eyes as light in their blue as her mother's were dark in their brown. "I know you lost your best friend, and it's something you'll never truly get over. I know you've had to do things you don't enjoy. I know you've had a rough time lately. And, sweetheart, I know there is more weighing on you than all of this."
"Dad"
"It's okay, you're a grown woman, you don't have to share everything with your old man. But I want you to find someone to talk to or a way to let it out, because this person standing in front of me, the woman I've seen lately, is not the daughter I raised. You came out of the womb ready to take the world by storm with a smile on your face, and I'll be damned if I let you lose that. Do you understand me?"
Suddenly struck by an enormous lump in her throat, she managed a murmur of, "Yes, sir."
"Okay. Now go back inside, hug your mother because she can't sleep for worrying about you, and remember that you're Dora Tonks and you're stronger than this. You can be happy—it's okay to be happy—you just have to remember how."
Ted held his arms open, and Tonks fell into his embrace, grateful beyond words for her father. It amazed her that he always knew what to say. After a kiss on the cheek and a whispered, "Thank you, Dad," she returned inside to give the same to her mother.
The house was abuzz. Curious, it took her a moment after entering the living room to realize that two identical, stocky redheads stood in the doorway, both grinning yet grimy.
"Fred! George! Where have you been?"
"That's all you can say?" George asked. "Where have you been, just like our mother. Not even a good to see you."
"I do believe you promised us a reward upon safe arrival." Fred winked and tapped his cheek. So relieved they were alive and well, Tonks bypassed their cheeks and gave each a kiss square on the mouth, earning a wolf whistle from Hestia.
"Blimey, Fred, I think we'll have to volunteer for more missions with Tonks," George said, giving her a cheeky wink.
"Not to ruin the moment, but I expect we'd all like to know what happened," Kingsley prompted.
"Oh, the Death Eaters were no match for us, were they, George?" Fred said airily.
"Not in the slightest," his twin agreed. "It would have been all sunshine and daisies except we were so busy with them we missed one of the employees, who found the owner in the back."
"And they aren't as thick as they look, Death Eaters, not all of them, because they cottoned on quickly. Long story short, they reacted badly and started questioning everyone inside. We tried to slip away, but they caught us and ended up catching the place on fire while dueling. Thankfully the rest of the shoppers managed to escape."
George shook his head. "I don't know what the storekeeper had, but when the fire reached the back—"
"Boom," supplied Fred.
"Fred and I had gotten separated, and I couldn't leave without him, could I? Turned out someone got a little close to the blast and got himself knocked out cold." George shook his head at Fred.
"What would you do without me, Freddie?"
"Keep all the profits," Fred quipped. He rubbed his head. "Bit of a bump on the noggin, but I'm as handsome and smart as ever. No, Mrs. Tonks, I'm fine, I am."
Andromeda, naturally, ignored his protests and insisted on an examination. Tonks, busy laughing at someone else getting the full work-up for once, nearly missed George's last comment.
"And I'm sorry, Kingsley, but the owner was caught in the blast. There's no way he made it."
At that she stepped back from the rest of the group, leaning against a window. All three missions had taken a deadly turn, and she wondered just how long their luck would hold out.
Moody stumped up beside her, leaning on a crutch due to his broken fake leg. "Alright, Tonks?"
"Mmm-hmm. How's the leg?"
"You think you're as funny as ever, don't you?"
"Rather."
"Keep laughing. Even on one leg I could still wipe the floor with you. In fact, it hasn't been that long since I did, many times."
She let out a short bark of a laugh. "Bring it, old man."
"Overconfident little tart." He paused before clearing his throat and continuing gruffly. "You did well tonight. You didn't get yourself killed and brought your team back. Of course, I'd expect nothing less after you dogged my every move for two years. I couldn't take a piss without stepping on your robes."
"Thanks for that mental image," she said dryly.
He glanced at her with his real eye, his magical one rolling into the back of his head. "That's it? I've never known you not to waste my time preening after I gave you a compliment."
Tonks let out a slow sigh, letting her gaze sweep over the people assembled in her parents' house.
"Four deaths tonight, three by our own hands, and two of our own injured, not counting your leg. And me, I suppose. Mad-Eye, I can't help but wonder what the cost of this will be in the end."
Tonks trudged through Hogwarts late that night, knackered after her long and stressful evening, barely noticing the occasional patrolling prefect or teacher and walking right through the Fat Friar. As much as she wanted to stay with the others, she hated to be away from her official assignment for too long. Giving the password to her quarters, she briefly entertained the thought of someone waiting for her with a warm drink, a warm blanket, and even warmer arms.
Of course, as always, her room was empty. Because that was what she had intended. That's what she requested. That's what she needed. That's what she wanted.
Wasn't it?
