Extempore

"Please don't call me Nymphadora!"

Nymphadora Tonks sat plainly at the kitchen table, repeating a phrase she must have said a thousand times. Her fingers laced through her rainbow colored hair as a grimace slid across her face. Of all the many oddities Tonks embodied - the easy happiness, the total lack of grace - the way her features changed when she was angry was, by far, the most unnerving.

"Really, Mum! You know I hate it and yet you just won't --"

Glancing up to the slightly open door, she smiled and waved to you - beckoning you toward what was likely a sofa. Slowly - a little apprehensively even - you slid a mountain of robes, blankets and Muggle clothes out of the way.

Suspicions confirmed. It's a sofa.

The two of you were on assignment again, working just outside of Hogsmead. Better said, you were on assignment. Tonks, it seemed, was on a mission of another sort and she was wasting time. Impatiently, you tapped your feet.

Under different circumstances, her tardiness would not have troubled you. Astonishingly, it was usually her waiting at Grimmuald Place for her evening's running mate, tapping her feet impatiently.

The chink of cheap plastic colliding made the muscles in your neck jerk painfully. Automatically, you reached back to massage them, your eyes now pointed toward her.

"Sorry about the delay, Lupin." You cringed. She had taken to the filthy habit of calling you by your surname when she was angry.

Since Sirius' death and your time among the werewolves, many order members had taken to distancing themselves from you - not out of cruelty or fear but as a sign of respect. You had no doubt that, as the Order knew of your condition, they likely knew something of the intensity of your friendship. Certainly Albus was a man with the utmost of understanding of candor and discretion, but he was not one to allow senseless abuse on any human being when an easy thing could be done to prevent it. He had always been one to stand for righteousness and, even to the death, maintained that character.

Abruptly, the tiny, puzzled face before you came into focus, as though someone was twisting the ariel. She had clearly asked you a question you had not heard. Surreptitiously, you glanced around the room for some hint of the missed discussion. Instead your eyes landed on a vase of pink daises - the card lying beside them.

An inexplicable knot formed in your abdomen.

"Are you going to stare at those flowers all day or are you going to answer my question about the schedule? We're working, here."

"Not here," you replied, marveling at the amount of conviction you'd mustered, considering the excuse was still in the tadpole phase of life.

She looked at you, a quizzical expression in her slightly violet eyes but didn't press further. Fetching a cloak, she followed you out into the muggy air that fell heavy on your shoulders. You set a beeline for the local pub.

The air in the room was somehow heavier than the air outside. Stale cigar smoke and grease mingled with the ever present mixture of vomit and alcohol. The scent would have made anyone nauseous, but Tonks didn't seem to bat an eyelash - vivid blue to match her hair.

A quick glance around the pub told you that you were probably quite likely to be overheard but the odds of your visit being remembered by anyone, patrons and staff alike, was highly improbable. Not even a woman with blue tresses and lavender iris' could have caught the attention of the wizard splayed on the floor before you.

As you took a seat at the dusty table near the back of the...establishment, Tonks leaned over slightly, speaking from the side of her mouth. She was clearly attempting to be covert, but the yelp she let out after setting her hand on the unidentifiable and disgusting substance that covered the table flustered her so badly that she knocked over several surrounding chairs.

Gripping a sconce, she straightened herself out and smoothed her robes.

There was a chance, you registered, that she might have escaped this moment with some shred of dignity, that is, until a man who reeked so heavily of whiskey sours he caused even your eyes to water stepped over and helped to clean up the mess, deftly weaving between the mass of chair legs.

Red the color of maraschino cherries flooded her face as she thanked him stupidly and turned to glare at you. "Brilliant bloody idea, Lupin," her tone was that of pure rage, but the sparkle of a grin still resided in her eyes. "Dragging me out of my perfectly good room and into some disgusting...," she wiped her hand dramatically on the sleeve of your cloak, "...pub in the middle of no where. Won't tell me what was so important that you needed to see me about so early in the morning...."

"If you're quite finished..." A waitress cleared her throat. It was all you could do to stifle the chuckle.

Tonks shot daggers at her. "I don't believe we are quite finished and judging by the state of --"

"Coffee. Two very large cups of coffee." The waitress, her pen poised over the notepad, looked intently at you. "Oh, that will be all. Thank you," you added with a slight smirk.

There were a few long moments of total silence while you awaited the coffee - she was furious with you, after all. However, the mug of, well...it was coffee in the academic sense, you supposed... (Grounds + Water = Coffee) In any case, she seemed more able to focus.

"Why did we have to come to this awful place?" she asked, generously adding sugar to her cup. She'd contemplated the cream for a moment but, upon sniffing it, elected to go without.

"We have no way of knowing who stayed in that room before or after you," you lied. The Order knew perfectly well the inhabitants of this particular inn for the last six months. "There's no need to go risking it." She raised her eyebrows in a fashion that seemed to call your bluff. "This place is owned by a very old, very loyal friend of mine. I got him out of a rather rough patch when we were kids. A bit of underage magic involved, but the favors you do..." You trailed off as though your statement had been a proverb of some sort.

"Right then, I suppose we should set out to do a bit of investigation today. See if there is anything to be learned from the locals and then head off for the next town. That is, unless we find something, of course. Which we won't."

The entire order had been scouring the countryside for months now. To be honest, you were gripping for straws but even straws seemed lucrative now.

It seemed like only yesterday that Sirius passed and a few days more since Dumbledore's death - since Harry evaded Voldemort and his Death Eaters yet again but now, as he neared the end of his safety at the Dursley's home in Little Whinging, it seemed clear that if he were ever to face Voldemort, he needed to do so immediately or risk losing any chance he had of survival. But, before Harry could face him - there is always 'but,' isn't there? - you needed to find the bastard.

"You're far from your usual chipper self, today." It had come out a bit more sharply that you'd intended, something of the way a teacher would have spoken to a skulking student.

"Yes, well," her tone was apologetic and sad. "You heard the lovely exchange with my Mum and I'm..." she broke off abruptly, tears beginning to pool in her eyes. "Never mind, it's not important. Shall we get on with the fruitless search, then? Oy!"

You meant to intervene but she was already hailing the sickly looking waitress. It wasn't like Tonks to display emotion that way but, you had also never experienced Tonks in this capacity before. She was sullen and despondent but still resilient in her duties for the Order and you'd appreciated the reprieve from conversation you'd had so many times. Still, it bothered you to see her so depressed; twice more to know that you had caused it.

"Owner says not to worry about the tab. Just be on your way..." she paused. "...before you break anything."

The sun had begun to set before you abandoned your search. It seemed impossible, but you had questioned each and every villager and none of them had any recollection of odd travelers. You knew, of course, that Voldemort's followers weren't likely to check into a local inn but at some point they would need supplies - food. Their lines of communication were completely clogged and Moody was working closely with the new Minister. Every Auror in Britain was on the look out for them. The Floo Network was being monitored, Apparation points were guarded and Departments seemed to be taking turns raiding the old pureblood mansions once or twice a month.

A familiar feeling of frustration and defeat began to lap at the borders of your mind. You'd fought it off with increasing frequency in the last year. It seemed impossible that your side could be watching everything and still coming up with nothing new - no new arrests, not even a new lead. Then, there weren't any new deaths either, you told yourself in a futile attempt to ward off the ebbing depression.

Tonks, it seemed, was experiencing a similar sentiment at the moment. She was bearing hers far more visibly, however. Watching the sad look in her face as she stared blankly into the gravel passing beneath her feet cost you something. It was people like Tonks and Harry that should never have been affected by Voldemort. You couldn't help feeling, in the dead of night and the depths of despair, that if you'd done the thing right the first time, none of this would be happening.

Useless, you reminded yourself as Dumbledore had done on so many occasions. Harry's fate - Voldemort's rise - the Second War, it was all written in the heavens and there was nothing you or he could do to prevent it.

The rest of the walk continued in silence - Tonks returning to her room and seemed to go immediately to sleep. You hoped that the chink of light seeping under the door wouldn't disturb her - but there was nothing for that now. There was work to be done.

Work to be done, you reminded yourself when you opened your eyes. It seemed as though you had only been sleeping for an instant but, outside your window, birds were chirping in an irritatingly cheerful manner. Groggily, you swung your feet over the side of the bed and forced your eyes to focus.

In your best estimation, the clock face seemed to be spinning, you had just gone to sleep.

Once a vital morning person, too many nights spent worrying and pouring over maps and charts had you powering your weary muscles by strength of will alone. In your school years, your tendency to rise early and study before breakfast had infuriated James, Peter and Sirius. You thought of those times more now.

A creaking bedspring in the other room reminded you why you were bothering to get up in the first place. Tonks had clearly heard Moody's call as well and, by the sounds of things, he was growing impatient. A high pitched sort of squeal was rushing toward your ears without invitation.

"I'll kill him, I swear I will!" Tonks cursed, rushing into the sitting room, still pajama clad, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. "Bloody hell, Mad-Eye! What could you possibly want at this hour?"

Blearily, you noticed the trail of crashes behind her but couldn't muster the energy to rescue them from their fates. It seemed easier, at this moment, to fix them later and enjoy the way the water felt, rapidly evaporating in the excruciating heat.

"Where's Lupin," the device hissed.

"How in the blasted world should I know? Probably sleeping like any sane person would be at 6:30 in the morning on a Saturday," she shouted back at him.

"Go get him then. I've got a question about this report he sent in last night."

"I will not! I reckon he'd kill me if I woke him at this hour. I'm liable to kill you. Call back late-"

"It's quite all right, Nymphadora. I wasn't really sleeping anyway," You said, trying desperately to keep the sleep out of your voice. You didn't know why, but it bothered you to need sleep. It seemed like something you didn't deserve and shouldn't have - like a weakness.

"You deal with him then," she grumbled, wrapping the blanket tighter around her shoulders and returning to her room. She slammed the door behind herself and flopped down on the bed.

Were it not for Moody's watching eyes, you might have smiled.

"That was a bit theatrical," Mad-Eye grunted by way of apology.

"Not entirely. What was it you wanted to ask me?" Changing the subject seemed prudent. It also seemed to be the fastest way back to your bed.

"Yes, that. It's messy business, really. I wouldn't ask you to do it at all but I've seen it and it really ought to be taken care of."

If you didn't know better, you'd have thought that Mad-Eye Moody, acclaimed Auror and de facto leader after Dumbledore's death, was nervously shuffling his feet. Alas, the view from inside the little glass ball was not going to give you that periphery of vision unless Mad-Eye dropped it and, if he did, he was liable to curse it into oblivion.

"There's a new recruit just a few hours away. He's slotted for the Auror Academy - knows Harry from Hogwarts. Naturally, I can't go talking to him, being that he's up for training - the Ministry thinks it might...er...give him the wrong impression. Make him think he'd get something out of the deal, you know. He's young and he knew Harry fairly well. Played a fair bit of Quidditch against him, I gather. Ravenclaw, McGonagall said. He's a right smart lad but we're afraid we could lose him."

"I assume you've already set up a meeting time," you asked sagely. Moody smiled his twisted and unsettling grin.

"Yeah. 11 o'clock. There's a little pub in the town. You'll have to dress as Muggles. From what we know, there aren't many witches or wizards living in that area," you nodded and scribbled the information down with a nearby quill. "He's young, you know. Might, uh, take to Tonks, if you gather my meaning."

"You aren't suggesting - He isn't suggesting!"

You stumbled slightly and fumbled your hands, trying desperately to regain control of the eons old Facsimile in your hands. "Tonks," you and Moody shouted simultaneously.

"What," she asked plainly.

"You make such a bloody loud racket coming out here the first time and then you sneak up on us like that!," Moody was frantically trying to hide his face, making a grand show of picking up papers. He'd taken a rather large liking to Tonks since she'd started her Training. He claimed, once the proper amount of fire whiskey has been imbibed, that she reminded him a bit of his Hogwarts sweetheart. He did his best to assign her the best in partners and the safest of missions, taking her under his guard when possible, guiding her through the Ministry. Most Order members took this as carefully positioning her should the Ministry ever elect to back out of the deal but, in private conversations with Arthur; you had revealed your suspicions that Moody fancied Tonks his protégée.

"Well, I rather knocked everything over on the way out here the first time," she replied, blushing more profusely than you suspected he was in her slippered feet and two-sizes-too-large Weird Sisters t-shirt.

Regaining himself, Moody set off again. "I am suggesting and you'll do it! We need this boy and if that's all it's going to take then someone has to do it. I'm sure Remus would volunteer but, from all accounts, it wouldn't be too much help!"

Catching a murderous glint in her eyes, you said a quick goodbye and pocketed the ball.

For the second time that morning, Tonks stormed into her room and slammed the door.

So much for 'ever the professional,' you mused.

She had complied with Moody's request to an entirely unnecessary extreme. On sight, you wondered if it had been, to some degree, for your benefit. Then, it was warm out. As you made your way down the path out of the village, the breeze ruffled her light summer skirt. Several passers by smiled at you in an over-warm fashion that you couldn't place. Their eyes seemed to be issuing a sort of friendly congratulations that, in an odd way, suited the sort of evening it was. As the sun began to set, the clamminess fell out of the air giving way to the comfortably warm breeze. The perfumes of many flowers mingled together and further clouded your vision. It was the perfect evening and, for just a moment, you forgot the circumstances and set your entire self to the time and place, determined to burn it to memory. Never mind that the beautiful young woman at your side was a clumsy Auror in her early 20's. Never mind that your walk would end at the village gates. Never mind that you would return to an ambiguous and entirely interchangeable inn to work well into the early hours and fall asleep just long enough to tease your mind into functioning for one more day. Never mind that you were a poor, unemployed werewolf. For just a few minutes, life was as you always imagined it to be.

A particularly fragrant bunch of flowers caught your attention on the side of the path. Before your mind could stop you, your arm was outstretched, snapping the stem of a yellow daisy.

The motion was entirely instinctive and you'd managed it without dropping stride but now, nearing the Apperation safe point, you felt awkward and out of place with your daisy and the girl that wasn't yours. For what certainly wasn't the first time, you were reminded briefly of Lily. You had shared many such moments with her as a boy.

"I suspect Mad-Eye will want to hear the good news straight away," you said to break the silence.

"Probably." she added by way of reply. "That and I have to get out of these shoes before I fall. I think the charm i put on them is starting to wear out."

You stifled the unintentional laughter. "I had rather wondered how you were managing."

She grimaced and disappeared with a quiet Pop!