nymphadora tonks is back from the stars. (hufflepunk) wrote in reoccurrence, @ 2020-07-17 23:18:00 |
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In those early days of auror training the Ministry had looked at her and seen pure potential. Standing with the other trainees (none of whom would make it) she had a clear memory of being glanced over and almost immediately dismissed – her slight frame, the bright hair, the tattoos that she probably should have removed poking out from under her robes. It was only when they read down her file and saw, oh she was the metamorphmagus, that their eyes and attention snapped back. It was plain, even if not immediately made explicit, that she was being trained for undercover work. Disguise and Concealment had been piss easy; so much so that she had been the first trainee to be offered a spot on an operation. It had been a tiny thing, a ten minute impersonation, heavily supervised on all corners by her qualified superiors. It had also lit some terrible, thrilling fire in her stomach. A part of her would always be unsettled by how the Auror Office had seen her as asset first, person second. The same way a part of her struggled to trust anybody whose mouth quirked upwards in a smirk when she told them what she was. And yet, for all the bullshit (which she had long ago learned to let bounce off her, or else swing a determined knee up to meet a deserving groin) there was something delightfully exhilarating about slipping into a different skin, another story, just for a moment. She wasn't supposed to admit that part, of course, and so she kept it as a private observation. What she would freely admit to was that it felt good to have purpose again. The Ministry was going to leave one of their assets in the dirt? Fine, they could suffer the consequences. It took only moments to alter herself, adopting the vague qualities Oliver had informed her of (brunette, sex hair, cleavage, leggy) and once she was satisfied, she walked away from the mirror. There was no need to stare. It was the type of body and face combination that would have any heterosexual red blooded male creaming his pants the moment she shot him a smile. That, and she ran the risk of thinking too hard, editing parts. Better not to fall into that trap. It fucked with her head if she let it. Tonks had trailed Zach for a couple of evenings, disguising herself in various ways, to get a sense of his schedule after work. Confident that she would probably bump into him catching a Friday pint down the Leaky, she apparated into the loos, fluffed up her hair one last time, and then strode out, making like she was looking around for somebody. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him, but was conscious not to focus. He wasn't this women's company. Another moment, more feigned confusion, enough time for him to catch sight of her. And then finally she plopped herself down on the barstool next to him. The movement was perhaps not quite as graceful as she would have liked, but the small slip was hidden by an exaggerated huff. She sucked in her bottom lip and then stuck it out in a pout. "Well, it looks like I'm officially stood up." |