"Smarmy git."

"Oh, he's worse than a smarmy git, Mason," I swirled my coffee as I eyed Malfoy. "He's a smarmy git with lots of gold." He was becoming a regular guest here at the Ministry, peering down his nose at everybody as he shakes his tinkling pockets and ducks into Fudge's office. Forget Big Oil, the real special interest group in politics is Voldemort's Death Eaters.

"Lucius Malfoy, the poster child for wizarding pride. Makes me want to snap my wand in half and join the Muggle race," Mason spat. I could only nod in agreement. Overall, I liked Mason Maeda. He was an older Auror, who had seen more than his fair share of action out on the streets. And like Moody, he had the scars, and the twitch, to prove it. While he was a very loyal man with a deeply rooted sense of right and wrong, I always thought he was a bit daft. Especially when it came to his wife, Evelyn. Simply attending the annual Auror Christmas Party would tell you that she had absolutely no love for the man. She literally recoils from his touch. I felt bad for him—he deserved much better, but he simply didn't believe it. Today I was assigned to work with Mason. We had both decided that our daily assignment was received best after a round of caffeine.

I sipped at my coffee and sighed deeply. "Tell me about it. And to think, I'm related to him."

"Only by marriage."

"Yeah, but it's close enough to make me want to wash the filth from myself." I commented, and Mason chuckled. "And I don't want to claim either of my dear Aunties, either." Everybody knew my family tree, but fortunately, they didn't fault me for it. Lucius must have felt his ears burning, because he turned toward us and gave us a haughty glare before he disappeared down the stairway after Fudge.

With nothing left to see, we turned down the opposite hallway and headed back to the office. "So what do you reckon?" Mason asked.

"About what?"

"About You-Know-Who being back?" he replied. I thought for a moment how best to answer him. Here at the Ministry, I had to be careful what I said about the supposed "rumor" that Voldemort was back. Fudge had made it clear that anyone associated with Dumbledore could count on a sacking…if not a free trip to the Azkaban Resort. Scrimgeour had been asking too many questions of Kingsley and I, but Mason didn't seem the suspicious type. Or a loyal Fudge supporter. His seemed like an honest question.

"I don't know, to tell you the truth," I lied. "I was still fairly young that Halloween Vol—You-Know-Who disappeared."

Mason nodded in understanding. "Those were some dark and troubled times. It was hell being an Auror. Couldn't tell if witches and wizards were acting of their own free will, or were cursed into unwilling servitude. Like that Malfoy there," he added with a growl.

"Yeah, I've read his file. Said he was under the Imperius the entire time." I paused. "What do you think, Mason?" I prompted.

His face got darker. "Don't believe it, myself. Moody and I saw too much from him. But the sneaky bastard was too slippery for us. Couldn't pin anything on him."

"And now?" I prompted again.

"Off the record? He's hanging around here too much for my liking. Getting too chummy with Fudge. Something just isn't right, and I can't help but wonder if the rumors are true."

"So riddle me this, Mason: Everyone in magical law enforcement knows Malfoy is a loyal Death Eater, but can't do anything about it. Why?" I asked.

He smiled ruefully. "Welcome to politics, Tonks." His face contorted even more. "And I don't like the looks of Malfoy's greasy friend, either. What's that bugger's name?…works at Hogwarts…dark hair, lanky…" Mason continued.

"Snape?"

"Yeah, that's the fellow. Always poking into my wife's potions shop, sneering and making snarky comments," Mason growled. "At least I can keep an eye on him there."

I thought he'd make better use of his time keeping an eye on his wife, but there was no way I was going to tell him that. Instead, I bit my tongue and hoped that I never found myself in a relationship where my husband wouldn't care if I came home or not.

We walked back up the hall to the office when Mason asked, "So, what happened with that Podmore fellow, anyway? I heard he was trying to break through a door to the Department of Mysteries late at night? Strange, eh?" I didn't have time to answer before we approached the assignment board. He reached out a gnarled hand to pull the parchment from the wall. As his eyes scanned the notice, he let out a muffled, "Huh."

"What?"

"Well, what do you know. Speak of the devil…" He handed the paper to me. I read it with bated breath.

We were investigating Sturgis Podmore.

888

"Well, it's lucky you were assigned to him, then, wasn't it?" Hestia piped up. I didn't know which was worse—being named Hestia or Nymphadora. I guessed that since Hestia actually uses her name, it must be Nymphadora.

"Yeah, I have all the luck. I wish I could say it made a difference," I replied dejectedly. "Although he did look relieved to see a friendly face. But there really wasn't much to be done without compromising the Order or wildly accusing Malfoy of Unforgivables."

"Even if it i is i true," Sirius growled under his breath. Nobody noticed.

"You did the right thing, Tonks," Arthur pointed out. "It's probably better for Sturgis to just keep his mouth shut and do the time."

"I believe you're right, Arthur," Dumbledore interjected. "Unfortunately, there is nothing we can do for him at this point. We will simply all need to be more vigilant while on guard duty; not only for ourselves, but too keep our eyes open for other plans Voldemort might have. And where Lucius' wand is pointing." I heard Moody mutter something about losing his best Invisibility Cloak before Dumbledore continued. "Thanks for your report, Tonks. Now onto the next order of business…Remus, any news on the werewolf front?"

"Well, as I'm sure we can all guess, our good friend Umbridge…" he scowled as he said her name, "…has given the werewolf world a unified pink slip thanks to her registration laws. This discrimination, as well as the accompanying poverty, has divided us into two groups: the drunk and the bitter."

"Three groups, Remus," Emmeline interrupted. "The drunk, the bitter, and the Order."

Remus bowed his head in acknowledgement of her compliment, and continued. "I'm not as worried about the drunks as I am the bitter ones," Remus sighed. "The Ministry has practically handed them over to Voldemort, ripe for the picking. They sound ready for revenge."

Dumbledore nodded his understanding. "I figured as much."

"Tonks has volunteered to help me get Ministry files on the more…watched werewolves in Britain."

"I haven't had much time to look, honestly." I apologized.

"Good luck getting those files," Kingsley interjected. "Those are level three clearance. I can't even touch them."

I grinned wickedly. "That's because you're not a woman who can change her appearance at will, Kingsley. One leggy blonde, coming up!" I threw my legs up on the table, letting my robes fall to a scandalous mid-thigh and concentrated on morphing some long, blonde hair. Wiggling my toes, I asked Kingsley, "You don't suppose Dawlish is a i happily i married man, do you?"

Bill choked on his butterbeer as Molly gasped in shock, "Tonks!"

Bill had barely contained his laughter when he commented, "Maybe you out to forget about Dawlish and move straight on to Moony there. I bet he could use some level three clearance."

"I don't know, Bill," I replied hotly. "Not every guy prefers his blondes half his age."

Bill reddened as Molly gasped again. "Bill!"

"Brunettes, actually," Remus commented. "I prefer brunettes."

Sirius eyed him suspiciously. "I thought it was redheads."

"Sorry, Padfoot, that was you."

"Oh yeah, I forgot," Sirius murmured, smiling and staring off into space dreamily.

By now the room was rolling with laughter. Except Snape, of course, who was glowering at the undignified mirth. I waggled my eyebrows at him and blew him a kiss, only to be rewarded with a glare. However, from the opposite end of the table, Sirius was laughing so hard tears were rolling down his cheeks. Remus grinned at me.

Dumbledore brought the meeting back to focus by clearing his throat. "I think, Nymphadora, you should try more u ethical u means of obtaining said information…" I returned my legs under the table, returned my hair to pink, and lowered my head in mock shamefulness. "…At first," He added. Although he was giving me a stern look over his glasses, his eyes were twinkling.

"Yes sir," I replied obediently.

"Well everybody, I believe that is all for now," Dumbledore concluded. There was a rustling of parchment as everyone gathered his or her notes and belongings. "As you know, school is back in session and finding opportunities to slip away from Hogwarts will be few and far between. Please continue with your assignments and contact me if there are any developments." With that, the meeting adjourned and everyone filed out of the kitchen.

"Bill has a point, you know," Sirius whispered in my ear. I could tell from the mirth in his voice that he was smirking.

"Get stuffed, Sirius," I retorted. Truth is, the whole subject made me…uncomfortable.

"Going home then?" he asked.

"Yeah, Mum's coming by in the morning. Breakfast and shopping. Girl stuff," I answered.

"Give her my love. And take care of yourself." He paused for a moment. "You know you're welcome here anytime, right?"

I could hear the loneliness in his voice. "I know, Sirius," I answered softly as I put my hand on his arm. "I'll come and visit more, I promise."

He seemed embarrassed by our tender exchange and forced a comical smile. "I mean, even if you aren't going to give Moony any sort of clearance…"

I crinkled my nose at him and punched him in the shoulder. "Why should I, when he's got you?" Sirius' eyebrows knitted together at the insinuation I had made. "I'll see you later, cousin." As I left, his mouth was still working to find a proper retort.

A/N: Okay, so obviously Mason and Evelyn aren't cannon. They actually belong to my friend Jenny, who needs to post her story for everybody here to enjoy.