Disclaimer: J. K.Rowling is the creator of these characters, and all credit goes to her. I'm just borrowing them for a bit.
A/N: I came up with the idea for this story during a discussion on the Metamorfic Moon LJ page and decided to try it out. What would happen if Tonks and Lupin met for the first time while on assignment?
Not a clue as to how long this will turn out to be, but I can guarantee you a wild ride...
Rookie assignment, my arse. More like any excuse to shift the crap jobs onto the poor slob at the bottom of the ladder. You all just wait. I won't stay down at the bottom for long.
In the middle of a Sheffield park, cross-legged in the shade of a spreading horse chestnut tree, sat a small girl. There was no one else nearby. Despite the lack of other children to play with, she appeared happily absorbed in the small pile of dirt she'd gathered and didn't seem to mind being alone. Her eyes widened with fascination as she buried her hands in the dirt, grabbing up fistfuls and letting them slide back through her fingers. The simple game continued for nearly a quarter of an hour, her interest never wavering, until a gust of wind brought it to an abrupt end.
She jerked back and rubbed at her eyes, blinking to get the grit out, and scowled and kicked a foot at the dirt pile. She seemed unaware of the long streaks on her face thanks to the unhappy combination of tears and dirty hands. Her tantrum didn't last long without an audience to draw it out, though she glanced around, looking for any sympathetic passers-by. There were none. She was still alone. With a last sniffle, she stood and tried to clean herself up, batting at her tangled curls and smudged dress. Bits of earth and grass rained down, but she only succeeded in making things worse. After a few more half-hearted swipes she gave up and looked around.
Where the hell is he?
The girl's face lit up as she spied a tree branch conveniently low enough for her to reach. Running as quickly as short, somewhat unsteady legs would allow, she caught hold and let her momentum swing her forward, legs raised in crook-kneed fashion that displayed to the world her fondness for Mickey Mouse underwear.
All that effort to be here early—early, for Merlin's sake!—and for what? To faff around until the Order's golden boy feels like showing up? If Moody ever complains about me being late again, I swear to God I'll set fire to his leg.
Her knees, scratched and grubby, swung back and forth as she gripped the branch, scrabbling a little to get a better hold. When a butterfly wandered by, she giggled and dropped down to chase it.
No sign of the two we're supposed to trail, either. Am I the only one who bothered to check the time this morning? Death Eaters or not, most people still know how to use a damned clock. I dunno, maybe we were wrong about the location.
The girl's interest in the butterfly waned as quickly as it had come. The chase abandoned, she raised her arms to her sides and began a slow spin, laughing as she twirled like a top on the grass before collapsing in a dizzy heap.
Complete. Bollocks. The most suspicious thing out here is Mr. Butterfly over there. Or Mrs. Butterfly. Whatever. Kingsley's due a swift kick in the arse next time I see him, along with Mr. Can't Be Bothered To Show Up On Time. Bad first impression, I've got to say. Making me sit here talking to myself about butterflies.
The girl stood, paused, swooped down again briefly to pick a flower that had nearly met its death under her sandals. She bent her head to smell it and sneezed. More dirt smeared across her face as she wiped her nose on her forearm. The flower was closely inspected, tossed in the air a few times and finally picked to pieces. When she started twirling around again, she let her fingers fall open to shower the petals in an arc around her feet.
There's no real reason for the Order to get involved, not in a simple Auror case. Oops, sorry, "rookie" case. If I can't handle a bleeding surveillance assignment on my own, Scrimgeour never would have hired me on in the first place. And if Scrimgeour didn't think I needed backup, Moody should have just-
The distinctive crack of Apparation echoed through the neighborhood. The little girl fell still, eyebrows raised, as she looked up into the sky, at the trees, back down the street.
From a nearby alley between two blocks of flats, a pair of men emerged. They talked as they strolled along, turning immediately to the right without looking around and giving every impression that they were familiar with the area. It was only when they came to the crossing that would take them alongside the park that the taller and darker of the two men looked up and saw the girl. He said something briefly to his companion and they changed direction, making for where she stood.
Oh, hell. Those are the two I'm supposed to trail. Why are they coming over here? Shit. I can't leave now.
The back of her neck prickled briefly, but she tried to bluster away her sudden unease.
Calm down, you. It's not like they're going to do anything to a Muggle child right here in the open. Probably.
The girl stared at the strangers, as wide-eyed and curious as she'd been with the butterfly, following their progress into the grass toward her until they stopped just a few feet away. Another wave of unease hit her, shivering down her spine as their eyes pinned her where she stood.
"Hi!" She waved a small hand. Her gaze flickered between their faces, while mentally she raced through everything she'd read in the files Kingsley had shoved at her a week before, comparing it with the two men now facing her.
The taller of the pair, the one who'd spotted her, was thickset, massive-shouldered and possessed of impossibly long legs. His leer suggested that he liked nothing better than to chance upon little children alone in city parks. Simon Lennox according to his records, though his file didn't contain much beyond his name. More muscle than brains to look at him, a typical Death Eater bullyboy, though bigger than most. Rumours whispered there was giant blood somewhere in his background. Whoever put together the information on him had somehow skipped over his apparent taste for young girls.
The second had fixed his stare intently on her face with an expression somehow even more disquieting than the one on Lennox's. He looked like her childhood impression of biblical angels: graceful, slender, gilt hair floating around a fine-boned face. A picture of ethereal masculine beauty. Oswin Claremont's face belonged on a painting in a museum.
He and Lucius Malfoy must be quite the matching set when they get together. Two-for-one sale at the local Evil Minion store that day? Ahahahoh God, this whole assignment's fucked.
So near to him now, she found herself trying not to think too hard about the more disturbing details in his file; every account spoke all too vividly of a monster lurking underneath the beautiful exterior. Easier to fall back on snide internal commentary rather than focus on how vulnerable she suddenly felt.
Claremont's mouth curved into a smile, but if he meant it to inspire trust or reassurance, he missed the mark entirely. It only brought out something disturbingly predatory in his features.
"Hello, little one."
Battling the mad urge to run, "little one" swallowed hard. She dragged a fist across her nose and sniffed, her own return smile shy and unsteady. "Are you an angel?" she asked, letting wonder tinge her voice.
His shark's grin widened, emphasizing the chill in his eyes and forcing her to suppress another shiver. At his side, Lennox let out a coarse laugh, black, beady eyes lingering over her body.
Damn pervert. Shit shit shit. Okay. Calm down. Think this through. Something's wrong here. Why are these two bothering with a Muggle child, anyway? It doesn't make any sense.
"So, little one," Claremont cut into her thoughts, his voice honey-smooth but with an underlying menace that hung in the air between them. "Can you answer a question for me?"
"Um, well…" She casually linked her hands behind her back and looked down at one foot as it scuffed the grass, hoping they would dismiss the flush on her face as embarrassment. Effectively hidden, she clenched her fingers hard, refusing to wince as the nails bit into her palms. The pain cleared her head somewhat. Fear was a luxury she couldn't afford right now. The mission was shot for the moment, no sense in trying to deny it, but there was a good chance she might get away without betraying who she was. She could double back and pick up their trail in another disguise. The attempt had to be made, at least, and she needed to be able to think straight in order to do it.
You're an Auror, you've been trained to handle situations like this, and damned if you're going to let all rational thought fly out the window just because you've got to handle this mess by yourself. Ten minutes ago you were saying that you didn't even need backup.
"My mum said not to talk too much to strangers."
"Your mother sounds like a wise woman. Still, would she tell you not to help someone who asked? Even angels need directions now and then."
The words dripped sweetly off his tongue, and she thanked the Fates that she was not in fact the child she appeared to be. No child would have been able to resist, too young to sense the poison in so much honey.
"You want directions, mister?"
"Yes. You see, I'm looking for a friend and I'm not sure where he lives. You may have seen him around here, though," he purred.
The nagging feeling that something was wrong exploded into a sure knowledge of the same. It was ridiculous to think that they would come here without knowing exactly where they were going, so why put up such a show?
She needed to get out of there.
Shrugging, she swung a leg backward and shifted her weight, putting just a little more space between herself and the two men staring at her with such unsettling intensity.
"We just moved here. I don't know anybody yet." Her eyes widened. "I'll go get my mum and she can help you!" She took another delicate step backward.
It was unnerving, the way his eyes glittered in the sunlight, but Claremont made no attempt to stop her. Encouraged, she turned and began to skip away, an almost overwhelming sense of relief threatening to rob her legs of strength as she aimed for a house across the park, where she had seen toys on the front steps.
She chanced a swift glance over one shoulder. The two men might have been statues, silent, motionlessly tracking her progress. The relief that had settled over her was abruptly yanked away. Instinct kicked her in the guts and screamed out a single word into her mind.
RUN.
Her head whipped forward again as she gathered herself to flee, but she hadn't taken more than a single desperate stride before her legs were cut out from under her. She landed heavily in the dirt, paralyzed from the waist down and winded from the fall. Bruised, shaking, she raised herself onto her elbows and tried to crawl forward, although common sense told her it was useless. Already the ground behind her shook with the deliberate, heavy tread of booted feet as the Death Eaters approached. They must be enjoying this, witnessing her so helpless on the ground.
She desperately scanned the surrounding area, hoping to see someone, anyone, who might notice what was happening in the park and think it worth coming over to investigate. Her heart sank even as she searched for an imaginary, would-be saviour. None of this would look at all suspicious to an outside observer, she realized. Claremont had made no move on her that any Muggle could see. Anyone watching would have seen her skipping across the park, only to trip and fall yards away from the pair of men. No one could possibly know one of them had jinxed her from behind. It was perfectly natural that the two would then come over to help, which must have been Claremont's intent all along.
Mad-Eye will kill me for being so thick. She grimaced. I hope he gets the chance to try.
Another thought hit her like an oncoming train. They were doing this out in the open, in the middle of a Muggle neighborhood. They wouldn't hesitate to deal with anyone who showed a little too much interest, she saw that now. Attracting the attention of any passing Muggle would be serving them a death sentence.
She couldn't bring herself to do it.
Behind her, the muted sound of boots on the grass had fallen silent.
"Little one, you really should be more careful." Claremont knelt and pulled her upright, supporting her small body since her unresponsive legs hung useless beneath her. "You seem to have hurt yourself." He picked her up, cradling her against his chest. "Here, let me help you."
She bit her lip to contain an altogether unexpected whimper. Whatever messed-up fantasies she had seen lurking in Lennox's eyes were nothing compared to the promise of torment in Claremont's.
One thought in particular shouted over the top of all the others spinning wildly through her head. It still made no sense. None of this made sense. Why go to all this trouble to snatch a Muggle child? There seemed little gain in it, not unless...
She looked up at Claremont and asked in a small voice, "Where are we going? Are you taking me home now?"
He laughed quietly, a terrifying sound that whispered of death. Smiling down at the small captive in his arms, he slowly stroked one of her cheeks, laughing again as she flinched away from his fingers. She couldn't keep up the charade as her imagination unwillingly pictured what those same fingers might do to her if escape became impossible.
Claremont bent his head to whisper into her ear, sweeping even those frightening images away in a flood of shock and fear.
"Not yet, Nymphadora. There's something I want to show you first."