Word Count: 418
"Happy Christmas!" Tonks calls, grinning as she walks over. She looks festive in her forest green dress, designed to look like a decorated Christmas tree. Beneath her Santa hat, Kingsley glimpses her signature bubblegum pink hair.
He lifts a hand in acknowledgement, lips tugging into a smile. "I thought you didn't bother with these types of things."
Earlier that day, Tonks had expressed her dislike of office parties, calling them stuffy and boring. Kingsley had pointed out that they are optional, but that he would attend because Amelia helped cater.
Tonks shrugs, plucking a glass of champagne from a floating tray. She sips the bubbly drink, smiling to herself. "You said Amelia makes good food," she reminds him. "Did she make the brownies?"
Kingsley nods his confirmation. "I've asked for the recipe at least a hundred times, but she always says I would have to pry it from her cold, dead hands."
Tonks' gaze flickers through the crowd of Ministry employees before settling on Amelia in the distance, deep in conversation with Dawlish. "How much you want to bet she and Dawlish are…" She trails off and turns to Kingsley, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.
Kingsley nearly chokes on his roll. "Tonks!"
He's wondered the same before, though he would never ask so bluntly.
Tonks links her arm with his, leaning against him. "Hmm… Who else?" she asks.
He laughs. Tonks is so mischievous and full of energy. Of course she would find a way to make this into a game.
"Oh, Malfoy and Fudge," she notes, nodding toward them. "Corrupt bribery scheme or illicit affair? My money is on affair. You know Fudge loves running his fingers through those luxurious locks."
Kingsley shudders at the thought. "I would hope Fudge would have better taste than that."
It goes on like that for several minutes. Tonks creates elaborate, dramatic schemes that are more fitting for Muggle fiction. From forbidden relationships to secretly steals coworkers' supplies to build a creepy, obsessive shrine, Tonks seems to think the Ministry employees lead such interesting lives.
Kingsley laughs through it all. He can't remember having so much fun at one of these events. It's always been so tense, forcing himself to smile at jokes that aren't funny or listen to someone's "exciting" retelling of their latest mundane adventure.
"Never change, Tonks," he says, accepting a glass of mulled wine. "Never change."
"Don't worry," she assures him, clinking her half-empty glass against his and winking. "I plan on being this way until I die."
