Tonks took her father shopping with the idea of bonding with him. Despite the fact that she still lived at home, she hardly ever saw him – she was working all the time, he was working all the time, and it all felt very grown-up and depressing, and Gods did Tonks love watching him eat tikka masala.

"It's dripping down your chin, you idiot," she told him, waving her fork with one hand, the other holding Chapati that she tore into with her mouth. "Some people have no manners," she said, spewing crumbs.

Her father laughed, wiping his face with his napkin. "It's nice to do this." He placed his hand over Tonks's own. She dropped her fork to her plate with a clink and smiled sadly.

"It really is."

"So, when are you moving out?" her father asked. "When are you going to put the final nail in the coffin of this relationship?"

"Come now." Tonks pulled her hand out from underneath her father's. "Don't spoil tonight," she warned, grinning. "It's supposed to be a Muggle fun night."

"That it is," her father said, grinning as well.

It was hard for her father, Tonks knew, balancing the Muggle world and the Magic one. Tonks didn't know if she could do it. She didn't really feel a part of the Muggle world; she felt no connection. It was just a fun place that she liked to visit. She felt like she didn't really know anything at all about Muggles, though she knew in comparison to most wizards, she was practically an expert. And there was such a disconnect. The Muggles and Wizards didn't mingle; there was no respect for Muggles, not even amongst the most Muggle-loving of Wizards. They seemed to find Muggles harmless and amusing. Tonks liked Muggles better than all that. They had some good ideas, sometimes. Electricity was fun; Tonks loved television and electric guitars.

She looked around at the Muggles eating in the restaurant. A busty blonde with a handsome business man. A family of ten stuffing their faces. They weren't so bad, these Muggles.

"Dad," she said, eyes still glued on the strangers, "when you found out you were a wizard, how did you... I mean, how did it happen? How did it all work out?"

"Well ..." Her father mulled it over. "I reckon it started when I got my acceptance letter. I've told you about that. My mother and father were convinced it was some kind of gag. They threw it away before I even saw it. And then another one came, and then another. And then Ol' McGonagall showed up at my doorstep and spoke with my parents. They didn't believe her at first, but once she turned into a cat before their very eyes, they were pretty convinced."

"Yeah, I remember all that," Tonks said. Her father hadn't really addressed what she wanted to know. Maybe he didn't understand what she was getting at, or maybe he was just avoiding talking about it. Tonks suspected the latter.

"Anyway," Tonks went on, "what's so impressive about turning into a cat? The furballs alone would be enough to turn me off."

Her father smiled wistfully. "I've always wondered what animal I would be. You know, Animagus form and all that. I know that the verdict's out on the correlation between Patronuses and them, but I've got to say, if I turned into a bear, I would be pretty happy."

Tonks's father had been the only one in his N.E.W.T. Level Defense Class to produce a Patronus, and he still bragged about it. A large bear. Tonks's mother had never made one, but Tonks just supposed that she didn't have a strong enough happy memory.

Tonks had finally conjured one during her final year of Auror training. She wrinkled her nose at the thought. "If I turned into a ferret, I don't know what I'd do with myself. Probably burrow into a hole and sleep. Merlin knows I wouldn't stand a chance against a bloody bear."

"My form is the best, isn't it?" Ted Tonks said, taking a bite of his meal and brandishing his fork about like he was conducting a marching band.

"You're a prat, Dad; I hate to say it."

"And you're a prat's daughter, so what does that make you?"

Tonks opened her mouth to make some smart ass comment, but then stopped herself when she saw the last person she'd expected to see – except that that wasn't true at all – being led to an empty table. What were the chances that he would be eating at a Muggle restaurant? She flicked her gaze back to her father, and he was staring at her intently.

"Dora, what's wrong?" he asked. "You look like you've just seen a ghost."

Normally Tonks would have given her father a good smack for calling her Dora, but all she could do was open and close her mouth like a fish. "Nothing's wrong," she finally managed to get out. "I'm just feeling a bit ill all of a sudden."

"Maybe we should go home," her dad said, his voice full of worry. He looked at his watch. "We're going to miss the movie, anyway."

"Yeah, let's go home," Tonks said, standing and pushing her chair back without even thinking. Her father gave her one more concerned look, and then he led the way out. As they made their way to the door, Tonks's eyes lingered on the back of her colleague's head.

It was Shacklebolt, all right, there was no hiding that physique, or that shiny bald head. But why was he here, out of all the places in the entire world?

The first time it happened, Tonks dismissed it as coincidence. The second time it happened, Tonks dismissed it as a coincidencier coincidence. By the third, fourth and fifth times, Tonks was left with no option but to admit that Kingsley Shacklebolt, big, scary Auror, was stalking her.

Everywhere she went, there he was. Every time she walked down a hallway at work, he seemed to be there. Every time she went out for lunch, he was there, every time, no matter if she changed restaurants or changed routes or changed her face. He was there.

Tonks was left with little else to do but think about Shacklebolt, and his sudden stalker tendencies, in her bed that night. It was far too early for her to sleep, so she just laid there in the dark, staring out her window. It was windy outside; the oak tree outside her window was aggressively shaking its branches. The full moon was shining through the spaces in between, illuminating Tonks's room in a spooky way.

Downstairs, she could hear music playing. Her parents were dancing. They loved to dance. And she was all alone, and confused. Tonks burrowed her face in pillow.

Maybe he just fancies me. Maybe he's shy, and he's just trying to work up the courage to ask me out.

Tonks had to sigh at that. What self-respecting bloke would think that stalking's romantic? And besides, Shacklebolt never struck her as the shy type. He always talked to her, no problem, all brisk business and nothing else, although sometimes ... sometimes Tonks saw something in him. Sometimes his eyes twinkled. Shacklebolt wasn't all business, all the time, like he wanted people to think.

Whatever his intent, he's playing psychological games with me, and I'm going bloody insane!

Tonks rolled onto her other side, so the moon wouldn't taunt her anymore.

"Maybe," she whispered into the night, "maybe I should just confront the bastard myself."

And that seemed to be her only option. Tonks was an Auror for a reason, goddamnit, and she could certainly stand up to a co-worker! Even a large, scary one.

Tonks went to Fortescue's because she loved ice cream, and because the outdoor tables were perfect for confrontations. It was her lunch break, and she probably should have been eating something more substantial, but this was her plan, goddamnit, and she was going to follow through. If only her hands could stop shaking.

She didn't bother wearing a disguise today. She wore her short, pink hair, and her heart-shaped face, though her eyes were green. She didn't have a mirror, and she didn't really want to make them green, but the ice cream she'd gotten was such a lovely shade of green that Tonks could feel her eyes change all by themselves. It was nice of her body to let her know when it chose to morph, she decided, even if it didn't always want to let her in on the process.

And then, there he was, walking into the parlor as well, going up to the counter, ordering a cone. He came outside, and sat at the table next to Tonks. He didn't look at her. She could've screamed.

She stomped over to him, fuming, hair turning red, she just knew it. "What the hell's your problem?" She waved her spoon. A bit of her ice cream landed on his head. She blushed and then threw up her arms, hitting the table's umbrella, causing it to fold down. What followed next was a complicated bit of slapstick that even I'm at a loss to describe.

First, an umbrella stem hit Tonks in the head, which caused her to fall on top of Kingsley, which caused him to fall forward, face first into his cone. Then his forehead hit the table, and then the table flipped up, and then the chair turned over, and then Tonks and Kingsley hit the ground.

Tonks had never felt more embarrassed in her life, so of course she opened her mouth.

"I'll pay you back for the cone," she offered.

Shacklebolt didn't look amused.