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The crisp autumn air bit at Harry's cheeks as he and Tonks walked down the winding path toward Hogsmeade, their breath forming small clouds that dissipated like his worries about Sirius, temporarily forgotten. The village sprawled before them like something from a Christmas card, all steep roofs and smoking chimneys, with students already scattered across the cobblestone streets like colorful confetti.
I cannot believe I'm here, and with Tonks, Harry thought, stealing another glance at Tonks as she pointed out various shops. Her pink hair caught the afternoon sunlight, and in her casual jeans and woolen jumper, she looked less like the formidable Auror who could intimidate Malfoy with a badge flash and more like... well, like someone he might actually have met under normal circumstances.
"Right then," Tonks said, rubbing her hands together against the cold. "Where to first? I'm thinking we start with something warm before we tackle the shopping expedition. The Three Broomsticks?"
Harry nodded, partly because warmth sounded appealing and partly because he was curious to see how Tonks would handle being in public with him. Would she act like his trainer? His friend? Something else entirely?
The Three Broomsticks was full of students clustered around wooden tables. Madam Rosmerta moved between tables, balancing butterbeers and shepherd's pie, Harry for a moment was sure she would not be able to handle everything she was holding, but she did it all without a problem, and when she noticed him looking at him, she winked at him, Harry quickly looked away, his face turned red and Tonks laughed at him, not bothered by it.
Tonks snagged a corner table, gesturing for Harry to sit while she went to order. Left alone, Harry's eyes automatically scanned the room. He spotted Hermione almost immediately—her bushy hair unmistakable even from across the crowded pub. She sat with Ginny, Lavender, and Parvati, all four girls leaning in conspiratorially over their butterbeers, their laughter bright and genuine.
She looks happy, Harry realized with a mixture of fondness and something that might have been loneliness. Really, properly happy in a way she never gets to be when she's worrying about me.
"Butterbeer for the gentleman," Tonks announced, sliding back into her seat and pushing a foaming mug toward him. "And before you ask—yes, I saw your friends over there. Hermione waved at you, actually, but you were too busy looking brooding and mysterious to notice."
Harry felt heat rise in his cheeks. "I wasn't brooding."
"Course not," Tonks agreed solemnly, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "You were pensively contemplating. Much more sophisticated."
Despite himself, Harry found himself grinning. "You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"
"Not a chance," Tonks confirmed, raising her mug in a mock toast. "To brooding and the fine art of penisve contemplation."
"That's not even a word," Harry protested, clinking his mug against hers anyway.
"It is now. I've invented it. Very official Auror terminology."
They drank in comfortable silence for a moment, the warmth of the butterbeer spreading through Harry's chest. Around them, the pub continued its cheerful chaos—Hufflepuffs talking about Cedric, and his chances of winning the Triwizard Cup, Ravenclaws sketching spell diagrams on napkins, Slytherins huddled in a corner booth looking like they were plotting something moderately illegal.
"You know," Tonks said eventually, her voice taking on a more thoughtful tone, "when I was at Hogwarts, I always felt like I didn't quite fit in either. Too clumsy for the popular kids, too rebellious for the studious ones."
Harry looked at her with surprise. Tonks seemed so confident, so comfortable in her own skin, that it was hard to imagine her as anything other than completely self-assured. "Really?"
"Oh yes," Tonks said with a rueful laugh. "Third year, I accidentally turned my hair bright orange during a Transfiguration exam because I was nervous. Spent the rest of the day looking like a traffic cone. The Slytherins had a field day."
"But you're an Auror now," Harry pointed out. "You made it."
Tonks nodded slowly, her expression growing more serious. "Yeah, but it took me a while to realize that being different isn't something to hide from. It's something to use."
She gestured vaguely at her purple hair. "This used to embarrass me. The Metamorphmagus thing, I mean. I thought it made me a freak. But turns out, being able to change your appearance is rather useful in law enforcement."
Harry considered this, thinking about his own differences—the scar, the fame he'd never wanted, the way magic seemed to respond to his emotions in ways that didn't match textbook descriptions. "I'm not sure my differences are quite so useful."
"Are you kidding?" Tonks leaned forward, her eyes intense. "Harry, you're immune to the Imperius Curse, at least that's what I heard from Moody. You can produce a corporeal Patronus. You're adapting spells I've never seen anyone modify so quickly. And that silver light thing you mentioned? That's not normal magic, that's something uniquely yours."
"It could be dangerous," Harry said quietly. "I don't even know what it is."
"So could a badly cast Lumos," Tonks pointed out. "But that doesn't stop people from learning it. The difference is, you're learning to control something that's already part of you instead of forcing yourself to fit into someone else's mold."
She paused, taking a long drink of butterbeer before continuing. "My dad's a Muggleborn, you know. Ted Tonks—lovely man, but he never quite understood the magical world. When I was little, I used to wish I could be like him, just to make things simpler. But magic isn't simple, Harry. It's complicated and messy and sometimes it does things that scare even the people casting it. That doesn't make it wrong."
"You really believe that?"
"I've seen enough Dark wizards to know the difference between dangerous magic and different magic," Tonks said firmly. "Trust me, you're definitely in the 'different' category."
From across the pub, Hermione's laughter rang out clearly, and Harry turned to see his best friend gesturing animatedly while Ginny listened with rapt attention. Lavender and Parvati were giggling at something, their heads bent together in the universal posture of shared secrets.
"She's having fun," Tonks observed, following his gaze. "Good for her. Hermione Granger strikes me as someone who doesn't get enough opportunities to just be a teenager."
"None of us do, really," Harry said without thinking, then immediately regretted the self-pitying tone.
But Tonks just nodded thoughtfully. "Fair point. Though I have to say, for someone who's supposedly missing out on normal teenage experiences, you're handling this pretty well."
"This?"
Tonks gestured between them with her mug. "This. Sitting in a pub with a beautiful girl, making conversation, not once mentioning Voldemort or tournaments or anything remotely related to mortal peril. Very normal teenage behavior."
Harry felt his cheeks warm again. "Is that what this is? Normal teenage behavior?"
"Well," Tonks said, her lips quirking upward, "perhaps not entirely normal. Most teenagers don't usually end up having butterbeer with their Defense instructors."
"You're not my Defense instructor," Harry pointed out. "You're my completely legitimate security detail."
"Ah yes, my completely legitimate security duties," Tonks agreed with exaggerated gravity. "Very important work, ensuring the champion's morale remains high through strategic butterbeer deployment."
They finished their drinks while Tonks regaled him with increasingly ridiculous stories from Auror training—the time she'd accidentally knocked out her own partner during a practice duel, the incident involving a Boggart that had taken the form of her mother's disapproving expression, and her memorable attempt to tail a suspected Dark wizard that had ended with her falling into the Thames.
"You're making half of this up," Harry accused as they prepared to leave.
"Only half?" Tonks looked offended. "I'll have you know my capacity for embarrassing mishaps is far greater than you're giving me credit for."
As they stepped back into the crisp afternoon air, Harry caught sight of his reflection in the pub's window—and was startled to realize he looked genuinely happy.
When did that happen? he wondered, but before he could analyze it too deeply, Tonks was steering him toward Honeydukes, her hand briefly touching his arm in a way that sent warmth shooting through him like a successful spell.
"Right then," she said, her eyes bright with anticipation. "Time for the serious business. I have it on good authority that Honeydukes has restocked their Chocolate Frogs, and I refuse to leave this village without conducting a thorough quality assessment."
"Quality assessment?" Harry repeated, amused.
"Very important Auror work," Tonks said seriously. "Can't have substandard sweets endangering student morale. It would be a security risk."
The rich aroma of chocolate mixing with the sharp sweetness of Acid Pops and the vanilla warmth of Cauldron Cakes hit Harry like a punch as he walked inside. Students browsed the packed shelves like treasure hunters.
"Right," Tonks announced, surveying the shop like she was trying to find a dark wizard who was hiding inside this shop. "What's your strategy here? Systematic sweep of each section, or do you go straight for your favorites?"
"I usually just... wander around until something catches my eye."
"Chaos method. I can respect that." Tonks nodded approvingly. "Though I should warn you, I have very strong opinions about chocolate standards. We may need to conduct extensive taste-testing to ensure quality."
They made their way through the crowded aisles, Tonks proving to have an encyclopedic knowledge of sweet varieties that rivaled Hermione's grasp of spellwork. She pointed out the differences between various chocolate frog formulations, debated the merits of sugar quills versus ordinary quills ("Much more satisfying to chew on during boring meetings"), and demonstrated an alarming enthusiasm for the more dangerous sweets.
"Fizzing Whizzbees are brilliant for staying awake during night shifts," she explained, examining a package with professional interest. "Though I made the mistake of eating three at once during my first stakeout. Spent six hours vibrating like a tuning fork."
Harry watched her with growing fascination. There was something endearing about the way she approached even candy shopping with enthusiasm, as if every experience was worth savoring fully.
"Your turn," Tonks said, catching him watching her. "What are your go-to sweets? And don't say you don't have any—everyone has preferences."
"Chocolate Frogs," Harry admitted. "Though I never really had many sweets before Hogwarts. The Dursleys weren't exactly... generous with treats."
Something shifted in Tonks' expression—a flash of anger so quick Harry almost missed it. "Right. Well, then we'll have to make up for lost time, won't we?"
She proceeded to fill a large bag with what seemed like one of everything, ignoring Harry's protests about the cost. When he tried to pay, she physically blocked him from the counter.
"My treat," she said firmly. "Consider it part of your training. Proper nutrition is essential for magical development."
"Since when is chocolate considered proper nutrition? We are not fighting Dementors." Harry asked, but he was smiling.
"Since I decided it was. Auror privileges."
To his surprise, Harry found himself buying sweets for Tonks as well—a selection of the more exotic chocolates she'd been eyeing but hadn't added to her bag. Her face lit up when he handed them to her, and the genuine pleasure in her expression made his chest tight in a way that had nothing to do with the crowded shop.
"You didn't have to do that," she said softly.
"You didn't have to invite me today," Harry replied. "But I'm glad you did."
The moment stretched between them. Then a group of third-years barreled past, breaking the spell, and they made their way back outside.
The afternoon had grown cooler, the sun sitting lower in the sky and casting long shadows across the village. Most of the students had either returned to the castle or moved indoors, leaving the streets quieter than they'd been earlier.
"Come on," Tonks said, taking Harry's hand without apparent thought. "I know a spot with a good view."
She led him up a winding path that climbed the hill overlooking Hogsmeade, her fingers warm against his despite the autumn chill. Harry tried not to read too much into the casual contact, but his heart was beating faster than the mild exercise warranted.
The bench she'd mentioned sat beneath a cluster of oak trees, their leaves gold and red against the darkening sky. From here, Hogsmeade spread out below them like a detailed model, smoke rising from chimneys and warm light beginning to glow in windows as evening approached.
"Perfect," Tonks said with satisfaction, settling onto the bench and opening her bag of sweets. "Privacy, a view, and chocolate. What more could you ask for?"
Harry sat beside her, acutely aware of how close she was, how her shoulder almost touched his. "It's beautiful," he said, and meant it. The village looked peaceful from this distance, almost magical.
"It is," Tonks agreed, but when Harry glanced at her, she was looking at him rather than the view.
They shared the chocolates in comfortable silence for a while, the sweetness warming Harry from the inside. This felt different from their training sessions. Like they were just Harry and Tonks, not champion and trainer.
"Can I ask you something?" Tonks said eventually, her voice gentler than usual.
"Depends what it is."
"Earlier, in the pub, you mentioned that none of you get to be normal teenagers. I was wondering... what's the worst thing that's happened to you at Hogwarts? I mean, I know about the basilisk, but..."
"First year," he said finally. "I guess because I was so young, and everything was so new. I thought Snape was trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone, so I went after him. Turned out it was Quirrell all along—he had Voldemort on the back of his head. Actually living there, like a parasite."
He could feel Tonks listening with complete attention.
"I was so scared," Harry continued, the words coming easier than he'd expected. "But also... angry. The Stone showed up in my pocket because I wanted to find it but not use it. Then Quirrell tried to kill me, and when he touched me, he just... burned. Turned to ash."
"Because of your mother's protection," Tonks said quietly.
"Yeah. But I didn't know that then. I just knew I'd killed someone, even if he was trying to kill me first. Eleven years old, and I'd already..." He trailed off, staring at his hands.
"You'd already saved the wizarding world from Voldemort's return," Tonks finished firmly. "At eleven years old, you faced down the most dangerous dark wizard in history and won. Do you have any idea how extraordinary that is?"
Harry shook his head. "Sometimes I wonder if I'm just cursed to always be in danger. Like trouble follows me around looking for excuses to happen."
"Or maybe you're blessed to always find the strength to face it," Tonks said, her voice warm with conviction. "Maybe the universe keeps putting you in impossible situations because you're one of the few people strong enough to handle them."
Harry looked at her. "You really believe that?"
"I've watched you train. You don't just survive these things—you learn from them, you grow stronger, you figure out how to protect other people. That's not a curse. That's a gift."
She paused, then added with a slight smile, "Though I have to say, your logic in first year was a bit questionable. Did you ever realize that if the Mirror only shows the Stone to someone who wants to find it but not use it, then Quirrell and Voldemort would never have been able to get it anyway? They could have stared at that mirror until Dumbledore showed up and caught them."
Harry blinked, then felt heat rise in his cheeks as the obvious truth of this hit him. "Oh. Oh, that's... I never thought of that."
"Well, you were eleven," Tonks said kindly. "Not exactly known for complex strategic thinking at that age. Plus, you were probably running on pure adrenaline and terror."
"Still," Harry muttered, feeling foolish. "I could have just stayed in bed and let Dumbledore handle it."
"But then you wouldn't have learned that you could face Voldemort and win," Tonks pointed out. "You wouldn't have that confidence now, when you really need it."
The sun was setting properly now, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink that reflected off the windows below. The village looked even more magical in the gathering dusk, like something from a fairy tale.
"So what was this personal business you had to take care of?" Harry asked, remembering her earlier excuse.
Tonks was quiet for a moment, then turned to face him fully, her expression both mischievous and vulnerable. "Truth? I didn't have any personal business. I just wanted to spend the day with you."
Harry felt his breath catch. "What?"
"I saw you sitting there looking miserable about being left behind, and I realized I didn't want you to be alone," Tonks said, her cheeks slightly pink in the fading light. "I wanted to show you Hogsmeade properly, wanted to see you smile the way you do when you're not worrying about tournaments or danger or living up to everyone's expectations. I wanted..." She hesitated, then seemed to gather courage. "I wanted to spend time with Harry, not the Boy Who Lived or the Triwizard Champion. Just you."
Harry stared at her, this amazing woman who'd somehow seen past everything else to find something worth caring about.
"Thank you," he said finally, his voice rougher than intended. "For today, for training me, for... for believing in me. I didn't realize how much I needed someone to do that."
Tonks smiled, soft and genuine. "Everyone needs someone to believe in them, Harry. You just needed to find the right person."
As they sat watching the last light fade from the sky, Harry thought that maybe—just maybe—he had.
The walk back to Hogwarts unfolded in a different kind of silence than their earlier comfortable chatter. Harry found himself hyperconscious of everything: the way Tonks' breath formed small clouds in the cooling air, how their footsteps fell into an easy rhythm on the cobblestone path, the occasional brush of her sleeve against his arm that sent electric jolts through his nervous system.
I didn't have any personal business. I just wanted to spend the day with you.
The words echoed in Harry's mind like a particularly persistent Howler, refusing to be dismissed or filed away with other casual comments. She'd planned this. Not as his trainer fulfilling some obligation, not even as a friend taking pity on someone left behind—but because she'd wanted to spend time with him.
Harry stole a glance at Tonks as they crested the hill leading to the castle grounds. The evening light caught the pink strands in her hair, and her face was softer somehow than during their training sessions. Less like the formidable Auror who could intimidate seventh-years and more like... well, like a girl. A beautiful girl who'd chosen to spend her Saturday with him instead of doing whatever it was that beautiful, accomplished women normally did with their free time.
Stop it, he told himself firmly. She's five years older than you. She's an Auror. She's your trainer, for Merlin's sake.
But even as his rational mind catalogued all the reasons this was complicated, another part of him—the part that had learned to trust his instincts when everything else failed—whispered that age and profession mattered less than the way she looked at him. Like he was someone worth knowing, worth caring about, worth saving.
"Penny for your thoughts?" Tonks said softly, her voice cutting through his internal debate.
Harry felt heat rise in his cheeks. "Just thinking about today. It was..." He searched for words that wouldn't reveal too much of what he was feeling. "It was really nice. Normal, in a way I didn't expect."
"Good normal or boring normal?" Tonks asked, echoing their earlier conversation with a small smile.
"Definitely good normal," Harry said quickly. "The best kind of normal I've had in... well, probably ever."
"You should have more days like this. You deserve them."
You deserve them.
The castle loomed before them now, its windows beginning to glow with warm light as students settled in for the evening. Harry felt an unexpected reluctance to return to the familiar corridors, to the weight of being the Boy Who Lived or the Tournament Champion or whatever other title people wanted to hang around his neck like a chain.
"We should probably use the main entrance," Tonks said practically. "Less suspicious than sneaking around looking for secret passages."
"Right," Harry agreed, though part of him wondered if being seen returning from Hogsmeade with Tonks might raise its own questions. "Wouldn't want to compromise your completely legitimate security duties."
Tonks laughed, the sound bright in the gathering dusk. "Exactly. Very important to maintain proper professional standards."
But as they approached the entrance, Harry noticed her pace slowing, as if she were as reluctant as he was for their afternoon to end. They paused beneath the stone archway, suddenly awkward in a way they hadn't been all day.
"Harry," Tonks said, her voice softer than usual. "Thank you for today. For letting me... for trusting me with your stories. For buying me chocolate." Her smile was gentle, almost shy. "For being yourself instead of trying to be what you think I want you to be."
"Thank you, Tonks," Harry replied, meaning it more than he'd meant almost anything. "For today, for training me, for... for believing in me."
"Harry, you don't need to thank me," Tonks said, stepping closer. Close enough that he could see the flecks of gold in her brown eyes, could smell the faint scent of vanilla that clung to her hair. "You're worth believing in."
The words hit him like a particularly well-aimed Stunning Spell, leaving him breathless and slightly dizzy.
Before Harry could formulate a response, Tonks was moving closer. Her hands came up to frame his face, gentle and warm against his skin, and Harry's brain promptly forgot how to function properly.
She kissed his left cheek first, soft and quick, the kind of casual affection that definitely didn't pass between friends. But then she lingered, her face close to his, and Harry could feel her breath against his skin as she turned to kiss his right cheek. This time she paused, her lips barely a whisper away from the corner of his mouth, and for one heart-stopping moment, Harry thought she might actually...
But then she pulled back, her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright with something that looked like surprise at her own boldness.
"Good night, Harry," she said softly, her voice slightly breathless.
"Good night," Harry managed, though his voice came out rougher than intended.
He watched her disappear into the castle, her figure growing smaller until the heavy oak doors closed behind her with a soft thud that seemed to echo in the sudden quiet. Harry stood there for a long moment, his hand unconsciously rising to touch his cheek where her lips had been.
Five years older, his practical mind reminded him weakly. She's an Auror. Your trainer. This is complicated.
But his heart was beating a rapid tattoo against his ribs, and all he could think about was the way she'd looked at him in that last moment—like he was someone she wanted to kiss properly, age and profession and complications be damned.
When did I start noticing how her eyes light up when she smiles? he wondered as he finally made his way into the castle. When did her laugh become something I look forward to hearing? When did spending time with her become the best part of my day?
The answers didn't come easily, but as Harry climbed the stairs toward Gryffindor Tower, he found he didn't particularly care about the age. What mattered was that somewhere between that first awkward meeting in the corridor and today's perfect afternoon in Hogsmeade, Nymphadora Tonks had stopped being just his trainer and started being something infinitely more precious.
Someone who might, just possibly, be worth falling for.
This is definitely getting complicated, Harry thought as he spoke the password to the Fat Lady. But maybe complicated isn't entirely bad.
For once, his practical inner voice had no argument to offer.
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