What happens when opposites attract?
Welcome to the world unknown to the muggles of the world. Welcome to the story of a young auror and her werewolf companion.
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"Run, Nymphadora!" boomed a voice, making the witch's hair turn red.
"Don't call me Nympha-"
One misplaced foot and lights out.
'Was this a part of the training? Why is it so dark? My knee hurts. . .'
Various thoughts raced around in the quizzical mind of Dora Tonks but were soon ordered to a halt as lights began to flood her dark hues. Slowly coming to, the auror-in-training supported her weight with her elbows, sitting back with a hushed wince.
"What happened? Did I pass?" The now white-haired-witch asked, full of apprehension.
Grumbling and shaking his head, Alastor Moody placed two firm hands under Nymphadora's arms and heaved her up to her feet.
"Not this time. I warned you about those boots, Nymphadora. Your job must come before your footwear- they're hazardous." complained Moody, making the auror shrink back into her small frame. "But, as I always say-"
"-Constant vigilance. I know, I know." she mumbled, massaging her bruised knee.
"You will try again tomorrow; WITHOUT the boots." Moody ordered, glaring at the bulky, black disasters Tonks referred to as shoes.
"Okay, but if I do wear them, will I gain extra points?" flashing a witty smile, the witch removed the bruise from sight, returning her knee to its normal colour.
Without another look, Alastor Moody skulked away to his office, mumbling complaints no doubt.
*
The present day.
Maybe it was nerves. Or maybe just a memory recall. But for nights on end, all Nym had been able to dream about were her countless attempts to complete the stealth test during her auror training.
These weren't nightmares, though. The scariest thing was Mad-Eye hearing her back-chat under her breath. He had shot her a look so cold and so quick he was sure to have gotten whiplash.
'Due to the circumstances, you'll need to undergo training. Joining the Order of the Phoenix, isn't a walk in the park, Nymphadora.
Be at headquarters for nine o'clock sharp. And for everyone's safety, WITHOUT those monstrosities you seem to think are shoes.
- Moody.'
The parchment laid flat under, none other than the boots Moody had harboured a hatred for. Small flecks of dirt distorted the words scribbled onto the paper.
"With or without the boots? I can't quite tell." She smirked as she smudged a small pellet of dirt across the word 'WITHOUT'.
Giddy and pleased with herself, the metamorphmagus shook her head to relieve the damp strands of the shower's water. Two shakes was all it took and her once soaked hair was now dry and cut to a pixie length. Still sporting the colour violet, Tonks ran a hand through the spiky cut.
