“Oh no! You’re a morning person!”

“Oh no! You’re a morning person!”

Tonks groaned when an incessant beeping roused her from a very comfortable and cozy sleep.

“Shut up,” she groaned. She snuck an arm out from beneath the comforter and made to swat at the alarm, only to be jarred by a new voice.

“I ‘ave to leave, as do you.”

It was the French accent that brought the night before rushing back to Tonks.

She wasn’t at her flat, she stayed the night with the gorgeous woman she met at the pub last night.

It had been a normal night out with the guys; a few pints, some lacrosse on the telly, and Tonks and Gideon hitting on any bird in a skirt. It hadn’t been until Miss Tall-French-and-Sexy strolled in the pub, taking a seat at the counter and ordering a martini, that Tonks knew she had found the true challenge of the night.

Tonks poked her head out from beneath the blanket and blinked at the gorgeous woman in question.

“Oh no,” Tonks laughed a little breathlessly when she saw Miss Tall-Blonde-and-Sexy was already freshly showered and dressed in a charcoal grey three piece skirt suit. “You’re a morning person!”

The woman (damn, Tonks was very bad with names) gave Tonks a supremely unimpressed look as she wove an intricate braid in her long hair.

“I am a ‘I ‘ave to get to work’ person,” she corrected Tonks. “And you are a ‘you ‘ave to get out of my room’ person.”

Tonks burrowed down a little further in the warm bed and raised a playful brow at her. “Or we could both be ‘let’s call in to work’ people and you could climb back in bed.”

Tonks got her flannel thrown at her head as a response.

“I do not call in to work,” the woman said firmly. She ducked in the mirror to apply a quick layer of mascara to her lashes.

Trust her to pickup some sort of workaholic.

Tonks rolled her eyes up to the ceiling. She swung her legs out of the warm bed, standing and stretching her arms as high as she could, shameless and unselfconscious in her nudity. She winked when she saw the other woman give her a subtle look.

“Like what you see?” Tonks grinned.

The woman scoffed, but the blush in her pale cheeks gave her away. “Eef I didn’t, you would not be ‘ere,” she said simply.

“Fair enough.” Tonks gathered her clothes up from where they were scattered about the posh hotel suite. “Mind if I use your shower? Seems like I worked up a sweat last night.”

The other woman made an impatient sound. She sat on the bed Tonks had just vacated and pulled on a pair of expensive looking grey leather pumps. “Eef you must,” she conceded. “I ‘ave to leave in five minutes, do not make me late.”

Tonks smirked as she moved to the bathroom. “You weren’t so bossy last night,” she quipped. “What happened to all that filthy begging?”

Instinctually, Tonks dunked when one of her trainers came flying at her the back of her head. She reached a hand up and snatched it mid-air, an impressive catch considering her usual lack of grace.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” she winked over her shoulder and then hastened to get in the shower before the fuming blonde threw something else at her.

Tonks had barely rinsed the last of the suds off her body when there was a curt rap on the bathroom door.

“I am going to be late,” the woman snapped. “Can you ‘urry?”

Tonks bit back an automatic retort that usually she was the one rushing strange women from her flat. It wouldn’t do any good to make this one not feel special, not when last night had been good and Tonks was hoping for a repeat performance.

“You a model or something?” Tonks called while she ran a towel down her torso and legs briskly. “Camera can’t start clicking until you’re there, sweetheart.”

The bathroom door flew open, nearly clipping Tonks in the arse, and the woman was pissed.

Actually, she was gorgeous, all smoldering blue eyes and slim arms crossed angrily while she glared Tonks down.

“I am not a model,” she sneered. “And you are leaving, now.”

Tonks turned so the woman was faced with her bare chest while she scrubbed at her short pink hair with the towel.

“Like this?”

Apparently, just like that.

Tonks didn’t even get her shirt buttoned before she was being pushed by the surprisingly strong blonde right out in the hall.

“No number? No ‘can’t wait to do this again’?” Tonks laughed as she caught up to where the other woman was power walking to the lifts. Tonks put an arm on the wall where they waited, leaning her face down toward the perfect porcelain face that had immediately caught her attention the night before. “Not even a kiss goodbye?”

“Non,” the woman snapped. She ducked from beneath Tonks’ arm, an easy feat as they were nearly the same height and Tonks wasn’t actually trying to trap her.

“I do not make a ‘abit of…” The woman sent a furtive look around them, “Sleeping with strangers,” she hissed.

Tonks smirked and ran a hand through her hair, mussing it up more than it already was.

“I don’t make a habit of sleeping with my mates, but I’d make an exception for you,” she winked.

She got another disgusted look in response.

The pretty foreign ones always seemed to have a stick up their arse, it was just another reason to never trust the French. Sure, at night they’d be all begging and pretty and rough, but the next morning they were just rough.

Not the chick from Italy though, God, she’d still been a sweet little goddess the next morning.

Not like this feisty French thing.

“So sweet,” the feisty French in question scoffs. “‘Owever, I am ‘ere for work, and I do not make ‘abits out of sleeping with strangers. So zis is au revoir.”

If Tonks were a better person, a more sentimental person who sought out silly things like ‘attachments’, she might recognize the brief look of longing in those cool blue eyes and ask her to dinner, get to know her better. But Tonks wasn’t going to be yet another person in her group of mates to die young and leave behind a grieving widow.

“Au revoir then,” Tonks said carelessly.

It had been great sex from what was definitely one of the most beautiful women Tonks had ever seen, but Tonks had no qualms with calling it what it was and chalking the night up to a great story for the guys later.

Tonks walked back to her flat, a bit of a walk, but not unbearable in the crisp morning air, stopping to grab a couple dozen donuts for the guys and a coffee for herself. She checked her mobile, cursing at the reminder of the ‘very important’ precinct wide meeting they scheduled for eight.

Scrimgeour was a real wanker for that.

Tonks missed Amelia, she was a good boss, someone who could be counted on to never schedule a meeting until after lunch. Tonks didn’t blame her for leaving though, if Tonks got a fancy job offer for the High Court, she’d…

She’d turn it down, actually.

Being a cop was in Tonks’ blood; well, as much as having pink hair was in her blood. Sure, her cousin had been a cop before he’d been gunned down, but the rest of Tonks’ family thought she was insane for joining the force. In fact, her mum still thought she was insane for joining. Dad didn’t though, but he’d been gone before Tonks became CI Tonks.

He would have been proud.

She missed him so much.

Tonks shot a text off to her mum while she changed in to something more professional. She’d lost the itchy uniforms when she got her promotion, moving up in the world, but the button ups and dress pants were nearly just as bad. She couldn’t compromise on it though, she got enough flak for the pink hair and nose ring as it was, no need to poke too hard at the wasp nest of bureaucratic red tape.

Tonks would still take a flannel, jeans, and trainers every day of the week though.

By the time Tonks made it to the station, she was all dressed up in her monkey uniform, had a box of donuts for the guys, and felt moderately more perky after two cups of coffee.

“Morning, Tonks,” Gideon called when Tonks joined the pit. It was a mad house in the precinct that day, everyone dressed up, ready to deal with the shit storm that the most recent dead body brought them.

One dead hooker, no big deal, another day on the job as callous as it was.

Second dead hooker with the same M.O. and physical similarities to the first? Suddenly it was meetings and overtime and media attention.

With Tonks and Kingsley Shacklebolt taking the lead on the case, it had been a nonstop headache from the moment Tonks arrived on scene with the body.

“Morning, Gid,” Tonks said. She nodded at Gideon and his partner, his twin brother Fabian, as she sat the box of donuts on the counter beside the coffee pot and tea kettle. “Breakfast is here.”

“You are a life saver,” Kingsley said, his deep voice sneaking up on Tonks as only he could ever do. He reached around Tonks to take two of the chocolate frosted jam filled ones, the ones Tonks always got just for him.

Tonks grabbed a bottle of water and raised her brows at Kingsley. “Busy morning?”

“You would know if you were here,” Kingsley said, gently chiding her.

“She couldn’t be here any sooner,” Gideon quipped when he darted up to take three donuts at random.

Fabian nodded as he too grabbed a few donuts, though only the plain glazed ones. “She was probably all wrapped up in tall, French, and fuckable,” he grinned.

Kingsley smiled despite himself. “You did leave us rather abruptly last night,” he told Tonks. “I assume you’re going to blame your lateness on yet another conquest?”

Tonks tried to laugh with a mouthful of powdered donut, only succeeding in spraying bits of it everywhere, causing poor Kingsley to look that much more exasperated.

“You’re jealous,” she sang after swallowing her bite. She pointed the donut at the three of them, each in turn. “It’s a petty look, gentlemen. It’s not my fault you lot couldn’t have pulled her if you tried.”

“And I did,” Gideon sighed dramatically. He propped an elbow on Fabian’s shoulder and waggled his brows at Tonks. “Good then?”

Tonks’ face must have been wistful because the guys all chuckled.

“So good,” she sighed. “You boys should have seen the way she could bend her legs, and her tongue,” Tonks groaned dramatically, drawing a laugh, “God, if she hadn’t been such a bitch this morning I might have fallen in love.”

“The horror,” Kingsley said drily. “Our dear Nymphadora, falling in love, can you imagine?”

“Never.”

“Never ever.”

“Alright, enough about me,” Tonks said with a good-natured grin. “Any of you lads get lucky last night?”

“A gentlemen never kisses and tells,” Gideon sniffed.

“Which means no,” Kingsley quipped. “I’ll admit the Missus isn’t happy with all this overtime, I’m one more late night from the dog house.”

Another reason to never tie herself down.

Kingsley’s wife was a nice lady, always sending baked goods to the department and hosting dinners at their place. She raised their two boys without a complaint while Kingsley helped keep their world safe. But Jenny was a school teacher, not a cop, she didn’t understand the life because she couldn’t.

Gideon and Fabian were closer to Tonks’ mindset, both living fast while they were young and attractive. Fabian had a few steady boyfriends over the years, always open arrangements, never monogamous. Gideon called himself allergic to attachment, he said he broke out in hives when his ladies began trying to slap a label on their connections.

Tonks had joined the force when the twins did, she only moved up quicker because they goofed off more often than they submitted reports on time. The three of them saw the loss of coworkers, attended the funerals, saw the widows left behind.

Things like that left a scar.

Scrimgeour interrupted the light hearted banter at the coffee station only a few minutes later. He stuck his head out of the board room and waved everyone down.

“Move with a purpose,” he thundered, waving everyone to the room. “Nymphadora, bring that coffee, will ya?”

Tonks crinkled her nose, both at the use of her first name and the order to bring the coffee pot. Scrimgeour probably only saw she had been closest to the pot and chose her at random, but Tonks was their only current female officer since Amelia took a promotion and Dorcas quit, so she’d rather not be coffee girl if she could help it.

Still, if your boss asks for coffee, you shut your mouth and bring the coffee.

Tonks followed the herd as they all moved in the board room. She put the coffee on the table then took up a spot against the wall near the front of the room alongside Kingsley at Scrimgeour’s impatient gesture.

It was vindicating being lead on a case that was receiving such attention, but it was also daunting because Tonks’ name was the one that would be trashed if they didn’t close the case quickly and neatly.

“Sit down and shut up,” Scrimgeour said once the last of the force filtered in. He stood up front, behind the podium, and stared hard at them all. “Listen up, we’ve got SCAS here—”

There were a few groans at that that received a thumped fist against the podium. Tonks didn’t groan, but she shared a long-suffering look with Kingsley. None of them liked having some outside task force trying to run their show. Too many cooks in a kitchen, in her opinion.

“That is the last time I hear any resistance against their assistance,” Scrimgeour ordered them all. “Now, they’ve sent us a couple agents to help because this is shaping up to be a serial case.”

“Serial, sir?” Kingsley asked. He straightened up and became more alert. “Are we certain of that?”

“They are,” Scrimgeour said, waving a hand to the attached office door behind him where the SCAS must have set up shop. “They’ve got a presentation and I’m warning you all now to shut your mouths, listen up, and prepare yourselves because this is looking to be the next Cudmore Killer.”

Tonks grimaced. The Cudmore Killer had been active when she first joined. Eight blitz muggings in the park in two years, six dead vics, one with permanent disabilities, and the lucky one that had managed to survive and identify the perp in a lineup.

Tonks wasn’t sure how two dead hookers in an eight month span was compared to a spree killer that tormented a park for two years. But the office door opened, so she assumed she was about to find out.

First came out a burly man with a thick brow and a sharp suit on. He had his agent ID pinned to the blazer and he nodded at them before stepping to the side and letting his colleague take the lead.

And his colleague-

“Oh fuck,” Tonks breathed.

Because his colleague was none other than Miss Tall-French-and-Recently-Well-Shagged herself.

Kingsley groaned very quietly and Tonks was certain it was the twins whose snickers she heard in the rows of uniformed officers, but, like a magnet, Miss Definitely-Not-A-Model met Tonks’ eyes and looked as suddenly horrified as Tonks herself was.

“You shagged an SCAS agent?” Kingsley hissed in Tonks’ ear.

Tonks grimaced and shrugged. “Seems that way.”

“I hate you.”

That was fair.

Tonks smirked a little at ‘Agent Flexible’, causing the other woman to immediately avert her eyes.

At least Tonks wasn’t the only one horribly uncomfortable.

“Alright Gentlemen, Lady,” Scrimgeour nodded at Tonks, “I’m giving the floor to Agents Krum and Delacour now.”

The stink eye he added promised pain and desk duty for anyone who acted up, then he stepped to the side and let the agents take the floor.

“Morning,” the man grunted, a foreign accent lacing his tone. “I am Agent Krum, this is Agent Delacour. Ve have more bodies ve can tie to your killer, spanning back five years.”

“Oui,” Agent Delacour, apparently, agreed. “Zis killer targets young sex workers, ‘e ‘as at least five kills, zis eez the shortest span between ‘is kills, we believe ‘e will continue to escalate.”

Kingsley, good man he was, raised a hand and stepped forward. “Five, ma’am?”

“Oui,” Delacour said again. Her face betrayed no recognition of Kingsley, though her nose twitched when her eyes flicked to Tonks. “All young, all red heads, all sex workers.”

“All stabbed and left in an alley,” Krum added.

“We’ve only gotten the two bodies,” Tonks interjected, refusing to let the discomfort stop her from doing her job. “Where were the others found?”

“Gillingham, Dartford, and Chelmsford,” Krum said.

“Why weren’t we told when we found the first body?” Kingsley asked.

“Zey also believed eet was ‘no big deal’ since ze victims were sex workers,” Delacour spat, her perfect face showing perfect disgust. “We ‘ave linked ze cases, and will be taking ze lead.”

She looked toward Scrimgeour and offered him a small smile, insincere and bland. “Who ‘ave you assigned to ze case? We will work in tangent with zem.”

Scrimgeour waved a hand to Tonks and Kingsley.

“That’ll be Chief Inspectors Tonks and Kingsley.”

Tonks smiled widely when Agent Delacour looked suddenly pained.

“Magnifique,” Delacour muttered.

Magnifique, indeed.

“Tell me now if this is going to be a problem,” Kingsley asked Tonks as they moved to the office to start working the case with the SCAS agents.

“Problem?” Tonks winked at her partner cheekily. “I consider this an absolute win, Kings. How often does the SCAS fuck us? Finally, one of us got to fuck them.”

“A simple ‘yes’ would have worked,” Kingsley muttered. He held the door for Tonks and they hovered just inside the temporary office setup until Agent Krum waved them to two of the chairs at the table covered in reports, laptops, notepads, and maps.

“Morning,” Tonks said brightly, she winked at Delacour as she took a seat directly across from her. A glance at her badge refreshed Tonks’ memory. “How are you, Fleur?”

How could Tonks have forgotten her first name?

It had been her pickup line the night before, calling her an exquisite rare flower.

Miss Hot-and-Ready was Cold-and-Frosty now though.

“Busy, Officer Tonks,” Fleur said coolly, her beautiful face closed off and professional. “May we get started?”

“We may,” Kingsley said. He kicked Tonks’ boots beneath the table. “Do you have reports on the other victims, ma’am?”

“Oui.” Fleur slid a stack of reports across the table. “Ze first one was in Chelmsford, five years ago. Ze second in Gillingham, three years ago. Zen Dartford two years ago.”

“And one on the south side eight months ago and one downtown just the other day,” Tonks muttered, reading over the reports. She frowned at the scene photos. “Were your vics all covered too?”

“Yes,” Krum said. “All stabbed multiple times, no sign of sexual assault, and all covered with knitted blankets.”

“Jesus.” Kingsley ran a weary hand down his face as he slapped the stack of reports he’d been perusing on the table. “So what are we thinking?”

“We are zinking zat ze perpetrator eez an impotent male, just getting started, who eez showing remorse once ze victim eez dead,” Fleur said. “White male, mid-twenties, likely local to your area.”

“Because we have two kills?” Kingsley asked.

“Yes,” Krum nodded. He leaned back in his chair and the furrowed brow relaxed some. “He’s comfortable here, he’s killed all the other victims the first week of November of each year, this time he killed one in November then another in July, he’s comfortable. This is his home turf.”

“Any leads besides a meaningless profile?” Tonks asked, challenging Fleur with a smirk.

Fleur bristled. “You ‘ave ‘ad ze case for nine months and you believe we should ‘ave a lead? What do you ‘ave?”

“A lot more important victims,” Tonks said bluntly. She folded her hands on the table and leaned forward. “Look, sweetheart, we didn’t know it was a bloody serial killer, did we? We just assumed—”

“Assumed what, exactly?” Fleur demanded, her face flushing and her eyes flashing. “Zat because ze victim was a sex worker zat she didn’t deserve your effort? Your investigation? Even a single follow up to ‘er family?”

God, but she was feisty, wasn’t she?

“Absolutely not,” Kingsley said firmly. He spread his hands flat on the table, always playing the good cop to Tonks’ bad cop. “We meant no disrespect, we followed the case until it went cold in November and then had to move on when other cases became more pressing.”

Fleur looked mollified, though not convinced.

It was true though. It wasn’t that the dead hooker hadn’t been worth a heavy investigation, but there simply hadn’t been enough clues or evidence for it to lead anywhere. And, without family or friends to pester and clog their phone lines, the department had to call it cold and move along.

It was cruel, but so was life.

The four of them went over case details for a few hours. The SCAS agents had already put together a decent profile; terribly vague as Essex was filled with white men in their mid-twenties who owned their own method of transportation, but at least Kingsley was ruled out as a suspect.

A joke he didn’t seem to appreciate, though Agent Krum chuckled at.

Around noon, Scrimgeour brought them a stack of subs and bags of crisps, a kindness for the SCAS agents, undoubtedly. After lunch they decided to canvas the working girl spots, see if they couldn’t spread the profile and get a lead.

“And I believe Agent Delacour should go with Tonks,” Kingsley said once the plan had been established.

Fleur stiffened in her seat. “Pardon?”

“Apologies, ma’am,” Kingsley said politely. “It’s just that I rarely obtain information from the women, I believe I come across as imposing and untrustworthy.”

“While I look like I could be one of them if I swapped my work clothes for a skirt and crop top,” Tonks said cheerfully.

“I see no problem vis this,” Krum said with an indecipherable smirk for his partner.

Ooh, did Miss Multiple Orgasms brag about an excellent pink haired lover? It didn’t seem very in character with the image of professionalism that sat across from Tonks, but crazier things had happened.

“Agent Krum, I would be grateful if you would assist me in creating a release to the media in the meantime,” Kingsley said, ever the professional.

Tonks smiled at Fleur while the two men began discussing what details should be released and what should be withheld.

“Looks like it’s just us today,” Tonks winked, the silent ‘like last night’ rather heavily implied.

Fleur rolled her eyes and pulled a jacket on.

“A dream come true, truly.”

Tonks hummed along to the radio absently as she drove the two of them downtown. Fleur hadn’t said much since leaving the precinct, which worked for Tonks really. She didn’t like the quiet, it unsettled her, but the radio worked just as well.

As did the incoming call from her mum.

“I have to take this,” Tonks told Fleur who merely nodded. Tonks clicked a button on the steering wheel, accepting the call. “Hey, Mum, what’s happening?”

Tonks’ mum sounded tired even over the Bluetooth radio connection.

“Bellatrix is in jail, again,” Tonks’ mum sighed.

Tonks cut her off there. “Don’t ask for my help, I won’t do a damn thing.”

“I wasn’t going to ask you to, Dora,” Mum said coolly. “I was only letting you know so you knew not to answer any calls from the jail.”

Tonks ignored her blatantly curious passenger.

“You always want my help with those people,” Tonks scoffed. “Just last month—”

“Just last month I was trying to help a young man get out of a tight spot his parents put him in,” Mum snapped. “Your cousin Draco is a leagues more worthy of a second chance than my sister. Bellatrix called me this morning, she mentioned your name, I thought it would be prudent to inform you. I’m quite sorry for interrupting your day.”

Tonks’ irritation dissipated. It wasn’t her mum’s fault that she was related to some of the scummiest citizens of England.

“Sorry, long day, busy case,” Tonks said. “How about I take you to dinner tomorrow to make it up to you?”

Mum huffed out a short laugh. “A busy case does not typically give you leave for dinner plans, but if you find yourself off work and without any company, I would love that.”

Tonks glanced at Fleur at her mum’s mention of ‘company’ and was rewarded with a faint pink blush to her cheeks.

“Will do,” Tonks said, positively cheery now. “Love you, Mum.”

“And I love you.”

Tonks waited a beat after hanging up, giving Fleur time to interrogate her. When no questions came out, Tonks offered up the information anyway.

“My mum’s family is all pretty tied up in crime,” she said lightly. “They don’t talk to mum or I until one of them gets arrested. I’ve only tried to help once, when it was my cousin. He’s better now, off on his own at uni.”

Fleur hummed, so Tonks kept chatting as she drove.

“Mum wasn’t pleased when I joined the department, she worried that her family would try and use me for nefarious purposes,” Tonks grinned at her mum’s phrasing, “but they mostly leave us alone as we do them.”

“I see. And your fazzer?”

Tonks’ smile dimmed. “Dead,” she said, the familiar pang of loss crinkling her forehead before she forced herself to smile again. “He was great, he would have gotten a real kick out of my stories.”

“I am sorry to ‘ear zat,” Fleur said softly. Tonks spared her a quick glance and saw an empathetic expression on her face. “My fazzer eez gone as well, ‘e was a good man.”

Tonks felt the air between them become thick, filled with shared loss.

“Here’s to good men raising filthy lesbian daughters then, eh, sweetheart?” Tonks grinned, effectively ending the sentimental moment.

Fleur scoffed and muttered an insult under her breath, causing Tonks to laugh and turn the radio back up.

The two of them shed their jackets in the car when they reached the seedier town they planned to canvas. Tonks tousled her hair and unbuttoned her top button, it wouldn’t do to look too uptight.

Not like Fleur.

Fleur clacked down the roads in her expensive pumps, looking as if she owned the world, though she didn’t look uneasy in the dirty alleys as Tonks expected her to.

“You should let your hair down,” Tonks mused thoughtfully. “Makes you look less like a cop.”

“Oh?” Fleur arched a brow at Tonks. “I zought zat I looked like a model?”

Tonks slowly looked her over from her slick blonde hair, her trim body highlighted in the skirt set she wore, clear down to her pumps.

“Oh, you look like that too,” Tonks said in a low voice. She licked her lips and grinned, “You entered the wrong business.”

Fleur curled a lip up at Tonks. “Do you ever get tired of being disgusting? Or does eet make you feel better to be a womanizing creep?”

“Creep?” Tonks reared back, surprised. “Oi! You slept with me, sweetheart. Sorry for finding you distractingly gorgeous, but I don’t think that makes me a creep.”

Fleur narrowed her eyes while she reached up to undo the braid Tonks saw her put in just that morning. Her hair fell in loose waves on her shoulders, only looking that much more distracting.

“‘Ow often do you pick up random women in bars?”

“How often do you take strangers back to your hotel?” Tonks countered with.

Fleur scoffed. “You were much more charming last night.”

“I always am,” Tonks grinned. “I bet 20 pounds I can charm you again.”

Fleur tossed her hair over her shoulder and began strutting off, leaving Tonks with a nice view of her toned arse.

“You cannot and do not look at my ass.”

Tonks chuckled and lengthened her strides to catch up; she could be perfectly charming when she wanted, she just only wanted to when it had immediate benefits.

Tonks and Fleur got down to business as they began spreading the profile to the small groups of working girls they could find. None of the dozen or so girls they spoke with recognized the profile. Or, more accurately, all of the girls recognized the profile to most of the men they encountered.

Tonks was perfunctory, Fleur carried on long conversations. The only girl that Tonks spoke past the usual spiel with was a young redhead, advising her that if she wasn’t going to quit her job, she should at least dye her hair.

When Fleur wasn't looking, Tonks slid the girl a couple tenners and gave her a hair dye brand that would mask the red completely and hopefully keep her out of the killers view.

Tonks leaned against a building and watched as Fleur carried on a quiet and earnest conversation with a couple of the younger girls they found.

The girl with the black lipstick and ring in her eyebrow looked close to tears when Fleur offered them both a small card and plastic whistles on lanyards from a bag she carried on her hip.

“Handing out whistles?” Tonks asked when Fleur rejoined her with a dejected shake of her head.

“Zey should be protecting zemselves,” Fleur said stiffly.

Tonks fell in step with her as they made their way back to the car. “With whistles?”

“Eet eez better zan nothing.”

Tonks nodded. “Suppose so,” she said. She gave Fleur a curious look, bemused at the tight expression. “Most people wouldn’t think of that.”

“Most people are not me,” Fleur said haughtily.

Tonks stopped and gave Fleur a blatantly curious look. “Most people don’t care about them.”

Fleur raised her chin challengingly. “Zen eet eez good zat I am here, non? Because someone should care.”

“Yeah,” Tonks agreed, “someone should. Interesting that it’s you though.”

Fleur tossed her hair and stuck her nose up once more. “I suppose that I am one of a kind.”

Tonks grinned a bit as Fleur stormed to the car, her arse twitching side to side while she strut away.

“Yeah, I suppose so,” Tonks hummed thoughtfully.

Tonks and Fleur spent another couple of hours at the precinct debriefing with Kingsley, Krum, and Scrimgeour on all of their lack of progress before being dismissed for the day.

“Aye, Tonks! We watching the Knights at the Walkabout tonight?” Fabian called to Tonks when she snagged her jacket off her desk chair.

Tonks debated, but it had been a while since she’d had a quiet night at home.

“Nah,” she declined with a wave of her hand. “I think I’ll snag a book, some takeout, call it a night.”

“Boriiiing,” Gideon teased her. “Little swot Tonks, live a little.”

Tonks gave him a deadpan look. “Gideon, there’s only so many times I can out drink and out pull you in a week. Night, boys, don’t have too much fun without me.”

Fleur raised her head from where she’d been writing in a notepad when Tonks breezed past her, eager now for her night off.

“Au revoir, Officer Tonks,” Fleur said politely.

Tonks smirked and tried to do a haughty hair flip with her short hair before sticking her nose in the air. “It’s Chief Inspector Tonks to you,” she said pompously.

The quiet laugh that followed her to the door was vindicating. It seemed as if Miss Frosty had a sense of humor under the icy persona Tonks had been faced with since she woke up that morning.

The next day at work was a madhouse.

The report hit the news that morning that Essex was looking at a serial killer- a report that had been leaked instead of carefully distributed as they planned.

“Ten quid says it was Fabian,” Gideon muttered to Tonks after the department got their arses reamed for the leak. “I think the new bloke he’s shagging is a reporter.”

“Brilliant,” Tonks sighed. “What was his pickup line? ‘Hey, big boy, wanna hear about a serial killer?’”

Gideon grimaced, but a low chuckle reached Tonks’ ears as an arm snaked around her to steal the mug of coffee she’d just poured for herself.

“Whereas yours was ‘I zink zat your lipstick would look better on my neck’.”

Tonks gave Fleur a delighted look while Fleur sipped the stolen mug of coffee.

“And it worked, clearly,” Tonks said, quietly enough to not be overheard by any except Gideon and throatily enough to get a blush from Fleur. If Fleur thought that Tonks would be embarrassed by something as minor as a cheesy pickup line, she was wrong. Tonks embarrassed herself all the time, that line was nothing in comparison.

“Did eet?” Fleur said blandly.

Tonks liked Fleur today; with the media frenzy that had descended on them, it was as if Fleur were lacing her gloves, readying for a fight. And Tonks was a sucker for pretty girls who weren’t afraid to get down and dirty.

“Three times if I remember correctly,” Tonks said with an impish grin.

Gideon snorted and Fleur’s eyebrow arched up skeptically.

“Perhaps I am an excellent actress,” Fleur said, causing Gideon to outright bark a laugh loud enough to draw some curious eyes their way.

Tonks waved a dismissive hand. “Perhaps I’m an excellent lover.”

Tonks expected Fleur to blush prettily again, sputter with her lips parted and then back off. The reaction she got was much better though.

“Perhaps not.”

“Perhaps you let me prove it again.”

“Perhaps you are still a stranger.”

Tonks grinned, “You know where I work, sweetheart, I’d say we’re practically mates now.”

Whatever witty retort Fleur had building was lost when the board room door flew open, banging off the wall, and Agent Krum stuck his head out.

“Agent Delacour, ve are ready.”

“I suppose that’s us then, sweetheart,” Fleur murmured with a smirk.

“Magnifique,” Fleur sighed.

The two women had hardly entered the board room when Kingsley tossed a packet of papers to Tonks.

“We’ve found a witness,” he said triumphantly.

“Magnifique!” Fleur cried, sounding truly enthusiastic now. “‘Ow?”

Tonks read over the report while Kingsley’s deep voice filled Fleur in.

A dancer from a local club, ‘Ginger’, thought she’d had a run in with their killer back in November. She said he’d offered her cash to let him fuck her behind the club after her shift, when he couldn’t rise to the occasion, he’d turned violent and Ginger said he’d pulled a knife on her. It was pure luck for Ginger that a group of patrons from the club came out back for a smoke, spooking the suspect away and saving her life.

“Our first victim was found the next morning,” Tonks mused quietly. “So he fails with Ginger, takes it out on the victim.”

“Lavender.”

“Hmm?” Tonks looked up from the report to Fleur’s blue eyes that were hard and ready for a fight. “What was that?”

“Your first victim, ‘er name is Lavender Brown. Your second was Katie Bell.”

Tonks shared a guilty look with Kingsley. Neither of them used names when they discussed victims, it was easier that way. Less personal, more professional.

If you didn’t know their names, they couldn’t haunt you as effectively.

‘Forget the faces and the names, focus on the crimes,’ Moody had always barked.

She missed the mad bastard she’d trained under. He’d been cynical, paranoid and half-mad, but he’d been a damn good cop. Liver cirrhosis took him in the end; ironically, the whole department had drank to his honor after the funeral.

“Why did this girl not come forward until now?” Tonks asked Krum, pushing past the awkward moment.

Krum ran a hand through his short cropped hair and scowled. “She said it vas another day in the job. ‘Nothing special’ until she heard the news.”

Tonks nodded. “Do we bring her in? Get her set up with a sketch artist?”

“No need,” Kingsley said. He pulled another paper from the stack and read from it. “‘He was… uh… average height. Kind of skinny. Black hair, real pale. Polite at first, you know? But then he had a temper. He had a lot of scars… uh… maybe one on his forehead, I think?’”

Tonks sighed and rolled her eyes up to the ceiling before flopping in the chair across from Kingsley. “Let me guess, Miss Ginger was high as a kite when the attack happened?”

“She vas,” Krum said with a sage nod at Tonks. “Ve have a general description—”

“One that doesn’t help much,” Kingsley said. He rubbed his head, a sign of his own inner frustration. “Dark hair and pale.”

“Scarred as well,” Fleur added unhelpfully. She leaned against the door and crossed her arms. One foot tapped impatiently on the floor, today it was a light blue pair of pumps to match the fitted skirt suit she wore. “Skinny, average build, dark ‘air, scars.”

“Green eyes,” Kingsley added. “So that narrows it to… half the white males in England.”

Krum chuckled mirthlessly. “Vith his decreasing cooling off period, ve vill likely have a new crime scene soon.”

None of the officers in the room liked the idea, but it was true enough all the same.

On September first, a month since the second victim in their county had been found, Tonks got called to a crime scene. It had been a month of dead end after dead end. A month of working themselves to the bone, re-interviewing witnesses, re-examining crime scenes, canvassing potential areas for attacks, and generally coming up with nothing to show for it.

A fresh crime scene was almost a blessing in a morbid way.

Tonks pulled up just as an ambulance pulled off with its lights flashing and siren wailing.

“Hot damn, you look nice.” Barty, their lead crime scene investigator whistled at Tonks when she joined the cluster of cops, agents, and investigators at the mouth of an alley.

Tonks rolled her eyes, clocking Fleur’s side eyed glance. She did look nice, but it had been for dinner with Dorcas and Marlene, not any hot date, that got her dressed up.

“Still a lesbian, Barty,” she quipped half-heartedly. “What have we got?”

“Fresh attack,” Kingsley said, getting down to business quickly. “The victim—”

“Alicia.”

Kingsley nodded at Fleur. If they had learned anything in the month of working with the SCAS agents, it was that Krum was usually good for a pint after work and Fleur only referred to victims by their first name.

“Miss Alicia was approached by a white man, roughly mid-twenties, dark hair and pale skin,” Kingsley told Tonks. He walked through the alley, moving around the tape and evidence logs. He pointed at a spot beside a trash bin, a spot stained with dark blood on the ground, “She was here when the attacker asked her for a price. She said he paid upfront.”

“She said?” Tonks interjected. She looked around at the others, the two rookie cops, the CSI team, and the two SCAS agents. “She was able to give a report?”

Fleur had never looked as fierce or beautiful as she did when she drew herself to full height, her face lit up with a manic sort of glee.

“She eez,” Fleur said, positively bursting with joy. “‘E got ‘er wiz ze knife and she called for ‘elp wiz ze whistle.”

Tonks gaped at Fleur for a brief moment before flinging an arm over her shoulder, just as she would do with any of the others.

“You beautiful bloody genius!” Tonks crowed. “You saved her life, sweetheart!”

Fleur was basking in her own victory too much to even scowl at Tonks’ pet name.

“It does give us a new problem though…” Krum said slowly. “Last time he vas unable to kill his victim, he found a new one the next night…”

Tonks closed her eyes and dropped her arm from Fleur’s shoulder.

“Bloody hell,” she sighed. “He’s going to be hunting tomorrow.”

“And we need to be ready for him,” Kingsley said solemnly.

How they were meant to ‘be ready’ for a serial killer who had no qualms about hunting in a space of nearly 300km, Tonks had no idea.

The four of them, with input from Scrimgeour and the Head of the SCAS, Maxime, stayed awake the rest of the night plotting and planning.

It was nearly eight, the bull pen had began buzzing with the incoming officers, when Kingsley finally said what Tonks had been thinking for the last three hours.

“This guy hunts at night, and he prefers to stay local,” Kingsley said. He tapped a finger on the table, directly on top of the map that showed the killer’s comfort zone. “We know what he likes, where he likes to be, so let’s set a trap.”

“How?” Krum grunted. He yanked irritably on his goatee while he stared sightlessly at the table they’d all been seated at for far too many hours in a row.

Tonks knew where Kingsley was going with his idea, she knew where they would end up and what the ultimate decision would be.

“We have someone wait for him to pull the knife, make the arrest.”

“He’s used the same knife each attack,” Kingsley said, nodding along with Tonks. “It’s bound to have traces of the victims’ DNA on it, if he isn’t cleaning it too thoroughly, and the lab can match the serration pattern, that nails him if it isn’t a common pattern.”

“You would risk a young woman’s life?” Fleur demanded hotly. “What eef we are not zere in time, hm? What eef she eez injured first?”

Kingsley met Fleur’s challenging look head on. “I did not intend to have one of the working girls do it, ma’am. My intention was to have an officer under cover for the job.”

Fleur’s lips parted while Krum nodded thoughtfully.

“You would risk one of your own?” Fleur asked.

“Nope.” Tonks smiled and brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes. She knew where it would land the instant Kingsley came up with the plan. “We send me in.” She winked at Fleur, “I make a damn fine redhead.”

Fleur’s nostrils flared. “Absolutely not,” she snarled. “Eet eez too risky.”

“It’s our best plan,” Krum said. He nodded at Kingsley, “Get your boss to sign off on it.”

“‘AVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?” Fleur yelled. She jumped to her feet and slammed her hands on the table, bending over in Krum’s face. “YOU WOULD RISK ‘ER LIFE?”

Tonks was flattered, and annoyed.

“Nobody is risking my life,” she told Fleur. She put a calming hand on her tense shoulder. “I strut around a bit, wait for a dark haired man to ask me for a date, he pulls a knife, I book him. Alls well that ends well.”

“Absolutely not,” Fleur snarled at Krum. “Non.”

Fleur was outvoted. Scrimgeour loved the plan, Kingsley felt confident in their ability to step in after a weapon was shown and before Tonks was injured, and Tonks was relatively calm considering she volunteered to be serial killer bait.

“Zis eez the most imprudent plan I ‘ave ever heard,” Fleur muttered as she paced the board room in front of the others. “We risk too much with too leetle assurances.”

“Get her on board or get her out,” Kingsley muttered to Tonks. “It’s all hands on deck, you know I will not allow you to be injured, Nymphadora.”

Tonks clapped Kingsley on the shoulder. They’d been partners a long time, there really wasn’t anyone she trusted to watch her back more than him.

“I know,” she said brightly. “Fabian and Gid would drive you to the asylum if you let me die.”

Kingsley chuckled and waved her off, so Tonks was stuck with the irritating job or calming down the woman who wasn’t posing as bait that night.

“Come on, sweetheart.” Tonks rolled her eyes at Fleur and guided Fleur to the lifts. “Let’s get you some coffee.”

Apart from a muttered French remark, probably an insult for the pet name, Fleur didn’t say anything as Tonks led her out of the precinct and to the coffee shop directly across the street.

“Hey, Harry,” Tonks smiled warmly when she entered the familiar and cozy coffee shop. She waved a hand at the eternally exhausted looking young man who ran the shop. “Two coffees, mate, black and a bowl of sugar, please.”

Harry nodded, shooting Fleur a politely puzzled look, before ducking his head and silently making Tonks’ order.

Tonks led Fleur to the little metal table that sat in front of the wall-to-wall window after Harry handed over the tray and accepted the tenner in trade.

“Zis eez charming,” Fleur said. She raised a blonde brow as she looked around at the chipped burgundy paint on the walls, the scuff marks on the floors, and the scratched glass case that showcased a variety of baked goods.

Tonks grinned and pushed one of the mugs toward Fleur.

“It’s mostly just a place for us cops to hang out,” Tonks told Fleur quietly, keeping her voice lower than the soft rock Harry played over the speakers in the cafe. “Harry’s dad was on the force, James, he died when Harry was a baby, undercover gig gone wrong. Our informant flipped on us, got James shot on the spot. His wife, Harry’s mum, had post-partum, wound up eating a bullet a month later.”

Fleur made a soft sound of sadness and her eyes flicked toward where Harry slipped off to the kitchen. “Zat eez ‘orrible.”

“Yeah,” Tonks agreed. “Harry went to foster care, a whole mess. My cousin, Sirius, used to be partners with James, right? So he gets Harry out of this shit foster home, tries to adopt him, gets gunned down a month before the court date.”

“Non!” Fleur gasped. She covered her mouth with a hand, her eyes all soft and sweet. “What a tragedy!”

Tonks nodded solemnly. “Yeah. We all tried to keep up with Harry after that, my old boss Amelia even tried to take custody, but he got in a scrap with the next foster dad he had, got the bastard in the gut with a knife when he tried to get handsy with him, and we didn’t see him again until he showed up one day asking for an application.”

“‘Ow did ‘e get zis place?” Fleur asked.

Tonks smiled fondly as she remembered. “Amelia shot him down to join the force, Harry had a record and had a psych record a mile long from all the shit he’d been through, so we had a few fundraisers, everyone pitched in, and then asked Harry what he would do if he could do anything at all. And you know what he said? He said he’d like to own a cafe. So we gave him the money, he bought this place up, and we all support it.”

Fleur’s face softened and her hand on the table twitched lightly. “Zat eez a ‘appy ending,” she said quietly. She waved a hand toward the window where the precinct was in sight. “You all seem vairy… close.”

“We are,” Tonks said proudly. She smiled when she looked out at the building. “No closer team, those guys are my family.”

Fleur scoffed. “Family zat would risk your life?”

Tonks tilted her head curiously while she stirred sugar in her drink. “This case is personal for you,” she said slowly, piecing together all the bits and pieces that she’d picked up on the last month. “Did you know one of the victims?”

Fleur snapped her mouth shut and glared out the window for a few minutes. Tonks waited patiently, keeping her gaze on Fleur’s face as it slowly softened.

“Non,” she eventually said quietly, still looking out the window. “My seester, Gabrielle, she lived like zose girls. I tried to bring ‘er ‘ome wiz me, but ze drugs changed ‘er.”

Fleur reached in her jacket pocket and pulled out a slim and floral wallet. She took a photograph from it and slid it to Tonks, “My seester.”

Tonks picked up the wallet sized photo and smiled at the image. Fleur and a girl that looked nearly identical to her, if a few years younger, stood on a beach in matching flowy dresses. Fleur was beaming, her face all lit up with joy and love, and the girl next to her had a smaller smile, more reserved, but she looked up at Fleur with blatant love on her face.

“She’s very pretty,” Tonks said as she returned the photo. “You can tell she looks up to you.”

Fleur discreetly swiped a tear from beneath her eye when she looked at the photo before carefully tucking it away.

“She did,” Fleur agreed, her tone flat now. “Up until ze day she died, she said zat I was ‘er ‘ero.”

Tonks felt Fleur’s loss like a punch to her stomach.

“Murder or OD?”

“Murder,” Fleur said. She took a sip of her coffee, plain as she always drank it. “Robbery gone wrong, zey said.”

Tonks reached across the table and put a hand on Fleur’s smaller and softer one. “I’m sorry,” she said genuinely. “I bet she’s proud of you though, seeing how you look after these women.”

Fleur let go of her coffee mug to clutch Tonks’ hand in both of hers. She stared in her eyes with a desperate sort of frenzy.

“Do not do zis,” she said in a heated whisper. “Nymphadora, eet eez too dangerous. Let us find a different route, yes?”

Tonks gave her a small smile, just an uptick of her lips really. “Don’t go soft on me now, Agent. I’m a big girl, I can handle myself. Just watch my back tonight, eh?”

Fleur scoffed and withdrew her hands, oddly leaving Tonks’ hand to feel cold.

“Of course I will watch your back,” she said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Eef you will not look after your life, someone must.”

Tonks raised her coffee mug to Fleur with a wink. “That’s the spirit, sweetheart.”

Tonks fought back a shiver as she stood beneath the lamppost, a cigarette dangling from her painted lips. She caught sight of herself in the glass of the storefront behind her and fought back a grin.

She had on a short denim skirt, a crop top that just covered her chest, and thigh high boots that were just the right mix of ‘classy’ without looking expensive. Her face was heavily made up, and she had a long auburn wig on, the curls bouncing gaily on her shoulders.

In her opinion, she made a great hooker.

“Hey, Gid, would you shag me?” Tonks murmured, masking her question to the microphone clipped to the side of her choker necklace with another drag off her cigarette.

The tiny earpiece in Tonks’ ear crackled to life.

“And risk Agent Anxious getting jealous? I’m stupid, not suicidal.” Gideon chuckled quietly.

Tonks smirked and stamped the cigarette out beneath her boot heel. “Anxious, huh?” she murmured.

Fleur had been grim faced and distant when the team took their positions once the sun began to set. Tonks on the street corner, Gideon and Fabian in their unmarked patrol car a couple of blocks away, Kingsley, Fleur, and Krum in plain clothes spaced out a safe distance from Tonks.

“Flirt later, focus now,” Kingsley advised Tonks. “Walk, Nymphadora, become more visible.”

Tonks did as she was told. She strut up and down the street, staying close enough to the shadows to appear discreet, but under enough lampposts to be visible. She twitched her arse, tossed her hair, and shot looks at every car that drove by.

One finally pulled up, a green sedan, and Tonks strut lazily to the car before bending over and smirking at the driver.

He was an older bloke, overweight and balding, not their killer, but a creep nonetheless.

“H-how much?” The man wiped off a bead of sweat from his forehead.

Tonks smiled sharply, “How much for what, baby?”

The man was no seasoned customer, he looked moments away from pissing himself.

“F-for sex,” he stammered. He dug in his trouser pocket, pulling out a wad of bills, “I’d like oral, p-please.”

Tonks coyly looked at him through thick lashes she wasn’t used to wearing. “You want to pay me for oral sex?” she asked clearly. “You’re sure?”

The man groaned and nodded eagerly.

God, men were so disgusting.

The man was all but tripping over himself as he followed Tonks to the alley. There was no way he was their killer, but it wouldn’t hurt to collar a perv while they waited either.

Kingsley waited until the creep gave Tonks a handful of bills and presented himself to pop up and collar him.

“One random John down, one serial killer to go,” Tonks murmured to the rest of the team as she resumed her walking.

“Stay in range, Tonks,” Krum ordered her as Tonks took a left and walked opposite from a group of rowdy looking frat boys.

“Aye, aye, captain,” Tonks quipped.

The entire team began to fret that they missed their chance, even widening their area to twenty blocks for Tonks to roam instead of the initial ten. Tonks had been approached by half a dozen johns, but none that matched the description they were working off.

“Maybe Tonks isn’t his type,” Fabian joked weakly, his voice crackling as Tonks got further from where the twins were parked.

“Do not be ridiculous,” Fleur said, her voice just as fuzzy in Tonks’ ear. “She looks fine. Eet eez…”

Fleur’s voice faded as Tonks roamed slightly out of range. She spotted a familiar looking black car parked in an alley and tried to maneuver herself so she could see the license plate without passing the running car and having the car between herself and the exit.

Nothing for it, Tonks strolled past the driver side of the vehicle, one hand trailing the brick building while she kept her head ducked. She had nearly made it to the back end when the window rolled down silently and the driver cleared his throat.

“I’m- I’m looking for a date.”

It took every ounce of Tonks’ training to not whip her head around at the familiar voice.

No bloody way.

Tonks inhaled slowly and turned back. She kept her head ducked, hoping to look submissive and not evasive.

“Hmm?” she hummed. Tonks toyed with her hair, pulling as much of it forward as she could, and lifted her head enough to look at the driver.

His face was masked with shadows, but that messy shock of black hair and sharp jaw were the same features Tonks saw twice a month when she went to pickup coffee from the café.

Let it be a coincidence, she mentally begged God or someone while the vice tightening on her lungs told her that it wouldn’t be.

Their serial killer has been across the road from them the whole time.

Harry, because it was Harry, she could see clearly as he got out of the car and closed the door, his body blocking Tonks from leaving the alley, cleared his throat again.

“I’d like a date, please,” he said softly, politely, just as the two living witnesses had described.

Tonks rarely heard Harry speak, he was mostly silent when they interacted, but this was clearly his comfort zone.

Tonks lowered her voice, going for a throaty tone that would hopefully mask her identity as much as the long red wig did.

“What kind of date are you looking for, handsome?” she purred, sick with herself for having to be the one in the situation propositioning James Potter’s kid for cash.

Harry approached her slowly, his hands in his hoodie pocket. He slowed when he had Tonks cornered and he lifted a hand to touch her bare shoulder.

“Everything,” Harry whispered reverently. “Here.” He thrust a handful of money at her and grabbed her hand to enclose it around the bills.

“Sure thing,” Tonks murmured. She shoved the bills in her top and kept her face lowered and her voice masked. “You want it out here or in your car?”

“Out here, please.” Harry became more bold, running his hand up and down Tonks’ arm. “Your skin is soft.”

Do not throw up, do not throw up.

Tonks almost lost her battle against her stomach when Harry dropped his hand to unzip his trousers. He pulled himself out and Tonks spared a look quickly enough to confirm that he was as soft as the previous victims had described.

Swallowing back bile and hating herself for it, Tonks taunted him just enough to spark the rage she needed for him to pull the knife that looked to be in his hoodie pocket.

“Sure I’m your type?” she asked, a hitch in her words. “I know a few blokes who might perk your interest.”

It was crude and vulgar, but effective.

Tonks got pushed back against the wall, her head hitting the bricks with a surprising force.

“Do I look like a poof to you?” Harry snarled in her face.

Tonks heard a crackle that meant someone had keyed up, but the fizzle in her ears made it difficult to decipher whose broken words she was hearing.

“You don’t seem too straight,” Tonks said.

Let’s see that knife, Harry.

Tonks got her wish a few minutes later after Harry grabbed her by the wig to slam her head against the wall again.

The wig slipped though, and a single lock of pink hair slipped free.

“Wha…?” Harry abruptly ripped the wig off, taking a fair amount of Tonks’ actual hair with it from the pins it had been attached with. He grabbed Tonks chin and roughly lifted her face. “Tonks?”

Tonks twisted her face, wrenching Harry’s hand off her chin. Harry pressed forward, crowding her between his body and the building.

“Surprise,” Tonks said weakly. “Harry, mate, listen, let’s go back to the office, talk about this, yeah?”

Harry looked indecisive for a moment, then his eyes hardened and he mashed his lips together in an uncompromising line.

“I’m sorry, I can’t,” he said, nearly sounding as if he meant it. He grabbed Tonks by the roots of her hair on the top of her head and dodged the knee Tonks shot out toward his groin. He slowly pulled a long, serrated, hunting knife from his hoodie pocket and held it up, letting the light from the distant lamppost illuminate it.

“Knife,” Tonks murmured. The gig was up and Tonks didn’t have her service weapon on her. “I’ve got an eye on the knife.”

Harry leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Tonks’ forehead, a stark contrast to the sharp knife digging in her stomach. “I’m sorry, Mum,” he whispered.

Tonks hardly had time to process a fresh wave of revulsion when she suddenly remembered that James’ wife had been a redhead before the knife digging in her stomach was removed then jammed forward with a force hard enough to drive a scream from her throat.

The knife pulled out, sending bright white stars in Tonks’ vision, and Harry whispered something…

Tonks imagined her Mum crying at her funeral, her coworkers burying another mate, Fleur’s blue eyes all teary, and she made one more effort to strike Harry in the stomach.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said as he easily dodged Tonks’ fist. “This is for the best. Tell my dad I said hello.”

The knife pulled back again, Tonks closed her eyes, and—

BANG!

Tonks cried out as the weight pinning her in place crumbled and the sound of a gunshot echoed in her mind, bouncing around and causing her ears to ring.

Tonks looked down and saw Harry bleeding profusely from a dead on headshot before she slowly looked toward the mouth of the alley.

“Oh.” Tonks tried to breathe through her nose as she slipped down the wall and slumped on the dirty ground in a puddle of blood.

Was it her blood?

Harry’s?

The blood of the women Harry killed?

Tonks blinked at Fleur, the little French flower, and smiled in a dazed sort of way. Fleur approached her slowly, her gun still in her hand and pointed at Harry’s body. Her face was all harsh lines in the shadows, a furious sneer curling her pink lip up.

“You’re pretty,” Tonks slurred, her tongue thick from either blood loss or a concussion. “Lied before, I’ll get to know you.”

Fleur spared Tonks a quick look and her eyes went wide.

“Nymphadora, no.” Fleur hit her knees, probably staining her posh jeans with blood and brain matter. Fleur holstered her weapon and snagged the radio from her pocket, “We need an ambulance at ze alley off Park Lane, just before Brabner.”

Tonks let her head lull back, barely a hiss escaping her when Fleur used her hands to put pressure on the stab wound.

“‘M fine,” Tonks slurred. “If I don’t die, wanna get dinner? You’re so pretty with a gun.”

Fleur let out a wet chuckle and pushed harder on the wound.

Was she crying or sparkling?

“You will not die, zat eez an order,” Fleur said hoarsely. “‘Old on, Nymphadora, s’il-vous-plaît. Do not close your eyes.”

“Too late, sweetheart,” Tonks murmured. She shut her eyes and let herself drift to a place where there wasn’t a twenty three year old kid with a bullet in his brain, dead in a filthy alley after a lifetime of shit. “Call my mum,” Tonks whispered. “Tell her I love her.”

Fleur slapped Tonks, but Tonks was too far ahead of her, chasing oblivion with her eyes closed, to even twitch.

“I’m dying,” Tonks groaned. She scratched at the IV inserted in her arm and resisted the urge to yank it out.

“It was not funny the first time you said it, it remains the same,” Tonks’ mum said calmly where she sat by Tonks’ bedside.

Tonks had been admitted via ambulance to the local hospital. They stitched up the stab wound, remarking on her luck to not have any internal organs permanently damaged, and then kept her overnight for observation thanks to the concussion she’d earned.

“But I’m bored to death,” Tonks said. She waggled her brows weakly when her mum gave her a terribly unimpressed look. “C’mon, Mum, cheer up. It could be worse, I could be really dying.”

Andromeda Tonks did not look amused in the slightest. Her face paled and she clutched Tonks’ hand tightly enough to leave fingernail indents in Tonks’ skin.

“Don’t joke,” she said severely. “I thought I would lose you.”

Tonks patted her mum’s hand consolingly, feeling a smidge guilty as Mum looked like she had spent the better part of the night crying.

“Never,” Tonks promised her. “Don’t worry about me, Mum, I’m made of stern stuff.”

Someone sniffed from the doorway, drawing Tonks and her mum’s eyes.

“She eez reckless and ‘orrible at following commands, but she eez rather tough,” Fleur said. She narrowed her eyes at Tonks and crossed in to the room with a frown pulling at her lips. “You are well?”

“Yeah,” Tonks grinned up at Fleur. “Better now, sweetheart.”

“I’ll just… go,” Mum said with a roll of her eyes.

Fleur waited for Tonks’ mum to leave the room before taking her abandoned chair and tentatively taking her hand.

“I ‘ave been worried,” she admitted softly. “Zat terrible boy was going to kill you.”

Tonks sighed and felt a mix of guilt and relief at knowing Harry had died.

“He wasn’t terrible,” she said, feeling obligated to defend him. “He just… he never had a chance to be anything except a monster.”

Fleur gave Tonks a peculiar look before slowly smirking. “Are you defending ‘im, Nymphadora?”

Tonks shrugged, wincing when the movement pulled on the thirty-six stitches she’d received. “It’s different when I knew him, ya know?” She laughed a little and peeked over at Fleur, mildly self-conscious. “That sounds mad, doesn’t it?”

Fleur’s face softened and her grip on Tonks’ hand strengthened. “Not at all,” she said airily. “Eet shows compassion to empathize despite ze fact zat he injured you.”

Tonks nodded, relieved to not be mocked for that small moment of vulnerability she’d shown. The two of them were silent for a moment before Tonks let out a quiet huff.

“You never did answer me,” Tonks told Fleur with a charming smile.

“Pardon?”

Tonks slowly reached up with her free hand and cupped Fleur’s face, swiping a thumb beneath her eye over the bags of proof from her sleepless night.

“I didn’t die,” Tonks murmured. “Will you go to dinner with me?”

Fleur pursed her lips skeptically. “I zought you do not do ‘dinner’?”

Tonks dipped her head close to Fleur’s, thanking her mum for thinking to bring a toothbrush for her when she returned that morning. Tonks pressed her lips against Fleur’s, a warmth spreading through her body at the familiar feel of those perfectly sculpted pink lips melted against her own.

“Mm, I’d make an exception for you,” Tonks murmured with a grin.

When Tonks returned to work over a month later, having to jump through the bullshit hoops of mental health and physical testing, she had her hands in her pockets and a jaunty tune whistling from between her lips.

“You look like you got laid,” Gideon crowed, offering Tonks a donut from the box he’d bought that morning.

“Let’s hear all about it,” Fabian added.

Tonks sighed wistfully, thinking of the night she’d spent with Fleur. They’d stayed up until sunrise, just talking.

It was so foreign and so comfortable.

“A lady never kisses and tells,” Tonks grinned. She plucked a donut from the box and ignored the shocked looks from her coworkers.

“My god, she’s still concussed,” Fabian whispered.

Tonks threw her head back and laughed. “Nah, I think I’ve fallen in love, lads.”

Kingsley gave Tonks a knowing smile and clapped her on the shoulder. “Our Nymphadora in love? The horror of it.”

Tonks nodded solemnly, her eyes sparkling with true happiness. “The absolute horror, Kings. Come on now,” she finished her donut and clapped her hands together, “Let’s get to work, boys!”