A/N: Hey, y'all! Just a bit of Tonks&Charlie friendship. :)

Transfiguration Task 3: Write about having a rare skill or condition.

Word Count: 798

Enjoy!

Nymphadora Tonks stared at herself in the mirror, her grey eyes swimming with tears. She really should have been in Charms right now, but she couldn't face her peers right now. Charlie's words, muttered in a burst of bitterness after one of their legendary arguments, echoed in her head.

"Do you even know who you are?"

He'd meant to make her question her path in life, the person she was meant to be, but those words had struck an insecurity that had been cropping up in her mind since the beginning of that year: if she could change any part of her face, any part of her body at will, then who was she really? What eye color would remind people of her? What hair style? Or would she be an anonymous name years in the future, a name that no one could attach to a face?

For a second, she dropped all her Morphs. Her bubblegum-pink hair faded back to its natural mousy brown, and her eyes darkened until they were the same dark grey as her mother's. This was the person she'd been born as.

But the girl in the mirror looked so miserable and lost. This wasn't Dora Tonks.

Dora looked away from her reflection angrily. Within a second, her hair had turned a shade of midnight-blue, her eyes lightened, her nose became spotted with freckles—but this wasn't her, either. This wasn't the skin she wanted to walk around in forever.

At least there wasn't anyone else in the dormitory to hear when she shattered the mirror.

"You've been down lately." Charlie's voice was certain and filled with worry. He sat down beside Dora as he always did, blatantly ignoring the fact that this table was for Hufflepuffs. "Is it about yesterday? You know I'm sorry. Being an Auror would be brilliant, even if it isn't as cool as working with dragons." He hesitated, a frown crossing his freckled features. "Or did we argue about that last week."

Despite herself, Tonks snorted. "It wasn't really you, mate. I've just been thinking about… things." She bit her lip and twisted a strand of pumpkin-orange hair around her finger.

"Uh-oh." Charlie's brown eyes narrowed even as he reached for the pumpkin juice. "What about?"

She considered telling him to drop it. He would if asked; Charlie wasn't one to press matters that were uncomfortable to the other party. But even though it wasn't technically his business, Charlie was usually good at making her feel better—and she hated feeling miserable.

"How would you find me in a crowd?" she asked the Gryffindor carefully.

The two fifth years eyed each other. "How do you mean?" Charlie asked slowly.

"If there was a crowd of people and you needed to find me, what would you look for?"

"Erm." Charlie looked caught off guard. "Brightly colored hair. A Weird Sisters t-shirt. Those spiky Muggle boots you're so fond of."

"What if I was Morphed to have a natural hair color? Or I wasn't wearing those things?"

"Merlin, Tonks, I dunno." Charlie's tone was flustered. "Does it matter?"

"Yes! No. I—I don't know." Dora let her head fall into her hands. She felt like she was lost at sea with no land in sight, like she was walking on a glass floor that was cracking underfoot. What identity did she have if nothing felt like it would fit her forever?

"I just… When people hear your name, there's a picture that immediately comes to mind. They'd know your face. But it's not like that for me." Her hands pulled at her hair. The worst part of all of this was that there were no other Metamorphmagi to vent to. No one to share her struggle. "Who am I?" she muttered.

All of a sudden, Charlie shoved her shoulder—hard. Dora yelped as one of her elbows slid off the table.

"Tonks!" Charlie exclaimed. "You're Tonks! There's no one face that's yours, because they're all yours. Every hair and eye color, every face shape, every height—it's what makes you unique. And no one will ever forget you because you're unforgettable. Some aspect of your appearance will always stick in their mind. Honestly, Tonks… the best thing about you is that you're such a colorful person that no one look can define you."

He beamed at her when he finished his little speech, completely proud of himself. And Tonks found her eyes watering, because who knew Charlie Weasley could be so sweet?

She tackled him into a bear hug. "Thanks," she muttered into his shoulder, too choked up to say anything else.

Charlie Hughes her back just as enthusiastically. "You're welcome." A pause, and then— "Does this mean you'll go easy on me the next time we play Quidditch?"

She snorted. "Not a chance, Weasley."