I hate Saturday duty. The offices are mostly empty, serving to remind those of us who are stuck here that somewhere out there in the world, people have LIVES. Even the auror offices are nearly deserted. Just me, Kingsley, and my mate Gillian, my informer about The Richard Affair. I spot the two of them chatting over coffee, having not yet started work, and I suddenly don't want to speak to either of them.
"Lovely day, Tonks!"
"Wocher, Kingsley," I shout at him grudgingly. I sit down at my desk and dump the contents of my satchel onto it. Time to finish what I barely started last night. Gillian rises from her discussion with Kingsley and tiptoes into my cubicle.
"Hey, Tonks, what happened at the concert last night? You talk to Richard?"
"Shove off, Gill, you know I couldn't go." I gesture at the mess on the desktop.
"So you haven't talked to him yet?"
"Only to cancel on Stonehenge," I whisper. "I wish you hadn't told me about it."
"You asked to know. You were the one with the suspicion."
"Yeah, well, I'd like to hex him into oblivion at this point, but I've got more important things to worry about. I've decided I don't care who he shags anymore."
"No time for idle chatter, ladies!" Kingsley calls. "Tonks, I hope you're finished with that vampire sighting report. I need it in at ten thirty, and Cate needs to proofread."
"Bugger. Ten thirty?" I settle in, shoo Gill off, and don't communicate properly with another human being until lunch time. At which point I am starving, and in desparate need of coffee. The vampire report is done, as are two other hastily put together pieces of testimony against a witch in Croydon accused of some petty offense. I gather my pile of completed work and hand it in to Kingsley. We are alone in the corridor; Gillian got tired of waiting for me to dish about Richard and went off to dinner with Cate, Kingsley's assistant.
"Nice work, Tonks." He pauses and looks at me thoughtfully. I sense an opportunity to discuss the happenings of last night.
"So, Kingsley, I suppose you know who showed up at my door-"
"Yes, well, we can't discuss that here, can we? Go off and have a bite to eat. I can't leave right now." I am a little surprised at his reaction, but I'm sure I'll have more than enough opportunities to discuss it later. So I go to the restaurant on the second level, betting the girls went out into London for lunch and that I'll have a moment to think. I've never done so much thinking, it seems.
But there they are, giggling. Gill has told Cate all about spotting my man at the Three Broomsticks with that tart, and they are watching me like hawks, wondering what I'm going to say. I arrive with my tray and promptly stuff a handful of crisps into my ravenous orifice.
"Well, Tonks, what are you going to do?"
"Haffrumpmumph?"
"Finish chewing, love," Gill chides.
"About what?"
"Richard." She looks at me like I'm stupid. Probably am.
"Dump him. What else would I do?" Their jaws drop.
"Dump him?"
"Yeah."
"Why not just withold sex? That's what I do."
"And it's good to see that you, Cate, are so happily married."
"Well honestly, Tonks, you can't find a good wizard in Britain these days. And Richard is dead sexy. Plus you two have been together since Hogwarts."
"Not really. Off and on. Besides, why would I stay with somebody who doesn't respect me?"
"Sneaking off with a blonde doesn't equal disrespect, Tonks. Just sex."
"Well, I'm not the worst lover in the world," I assert defensively over a mouthfull of chicken salad. "Why couldn't he stick it out?"
"Men have their needs," Gill replies.
"That's your mother talking. You people are practically medieval. I'm breaking it off with Richard, and that's that." They are quiet. They are looking up, behind me, and I realize that this is one of those moments you read about in the Tales of Trauma in Witch Weekly. "Richard's behind me, isn't he?"
I turn around, and there is the single best-looking wizard to ever give me the time of day, not to mention sleep with me. And he is pissed off.
"Richard."
"Afternoon, love. Missed you at Stonehenge. Too busy discussing me with your little friends?"
I stand up, fuming. "I'm sure you found a suitable replacement. What about that blonde at the Three Broomsticks?"
"What?" His expression changes abruptly. "Where did you hear that?"
"Never you mind, you two-faced bastard. What did you think you were doing? Did you think you'd get away with it? Because you wereterribly mistaken."
"You don't have any proof of that," he spits. His dark eyes are dangerously attractive when he's angry. I hate that about him. Bloody Ravenclaws, they brood too much. I'll never date another Ravenclaw.
"I'm just tired of this, Richard. I'm tired of playing games."
"You're not really trying to break up with me, are you? Not after all we've been through together?"
"Yeah, I am."
"But Tonks," he whines a little pathetically, "we were going to get married. Look, I'm sorry. You're right. I ran into an old friend there and we... we got carried away, you know. But it was just a fluke." The whole cafe is watching us. His voice has dropped to a whisper. Mine is elevated to a roar.
"I don't care. It's over, Richard. Over." I notice Kingsley standing in the doorway, watching the whole exchange. Fuck. I'll hear about this later. I grab my things, and storm out on the crowd, the elevator door just closing before Richard can follow me. Good. I feel sixteen again and I want to cry, but the Richard thing, which has been festering for a year, is over. I hope.
I seethe for a minute or two, and then settle back into work. Richard got the message, or he would have caught the next available elevator and tailed me to my desk. I didn't finish eating, and I'm still hungry. Lucky me. I have a stale bag of Every Flavor Beans in my bottom drawer.
Unlucky me. Bogies taste even nastier when stale.
Ten minutes later, Gill and Kingsley arrive. Gill carefully avoids meeting my eyes when she passes my cubicle. Silly bitch; I know she just can't wait to gossip about it. Kingsley enters and looks frighteningly stern. Oh Shit.
That was an interesting meeting, the humiliating details of which I won't discuss. So now I'm sitting here, seriously reprimanded for bringing personal business into work, and to make matters worse it will be ages before I can bring myself to talk to Kingsley like an adult and ask him about the Order. Which is also stressing me out.
I lean back in my chair and look at the walls of my cubicle: My prized Queerditch Marsh Rockfest '88 poster, with moving photograph of a grungy-looking Myron Wagtail (before he joined the Sisters); my drawing of Mum and Dad I did when I was eight; a card Mum sent me for my birthday; my Hogwarts diploma and my Auror certificate. And there, right before me, is Richard: The day that picture was taken he had accepted his current job as Assistant to the Magical Creatures Office of Misinformation. He had been ecstatically happy. I tear the picture down and rip it in half, then perform a shredding charm on the two halves. Bastard.
Kingsley comes in about a half an hour later. He sees me idle and gives me work to do. He is slightly vexed with me still. Oh, well.
I am counting down the minutes until five o'clock. I am finished with the massive thundering pile of paperwork Kingsley tossed at me. My hand will ache for eternity. Four thirty-seven... thirty-nine... fourty-five... Not a single exciting call in, no horrible incidents in the countryside... What about this You-Know-Who thing? I hate to admit it, but I'm looking forward to WORKING for real when this thing gets heated.
You are crazy, I tell myself.
Finally Gill sneaks in and breaks up the monotony. "I told you it wouldn't be pretty," she gloats.
"Whether you understand it or not, I'm glad it's over." I sniff. "I am not burdened by old-fashioned stigmas. I'm an emancipated woman." And bugger the hell off, I want desperately to add, but I refrain. I am, after all, a lady.
"You know, maybe I was wrong to tell you about what I saw. It wasn't so much of a big deal."
Ha! Four fifty-eight!
"Excuse me, but I have to be getting ready to leave. I've got plans tonight, anyway." With a gallon of Fortescue's Volatile Vanilla and an escaped convict on my couch, I forget to mention.
Eat my dust, Gillian and Kingsley. I am leaving the Ministry, and won't be back until Tuesday.
The first thing I hear when I floo into my flat is "Tonks! Mate! We missed you at the show last night! You never told us you got a dog!"
We've been invaded by rock stars.