I bit the inside of my cheek to hold back laughter, because Tonks clearly missed the ironic twinkle shining in Narcissa's eyes after that statement. It was too late for one of them already.
I took a casual step closer to Tonks. Her eyes widened just slightly in surprise at my bold approach. I reached out to gently capture Tonks's slender hand in mine, feeling the warmth and softness of her skin.
She blinked in surprise, her mouth opening slightly as I lifted her hand gracefully to my lips. My eyes locked onto hers with deliberate intensity as I pressed a lingering kiss to the back of her delicate hand. Tonks's reaction was immediate and delightfully entertaining. Her cheeks flushed vividly, turning a bright shade of pink that matched her hair. Within seconds, her hair rapidly shifted colors-first flashing purple, then red, then briefly settling into an eye-catching rainbow hue as her emotions clearly spiraled in embarrassment and surprise.
"I assure you, my beautiful colorful lady," I murmured smoothly, holding her gaze and smiling slowly, "that everything you've heard about me is absolutely true."
Tonks stared at me in momentary shock, clearly not expecting my confident response. Her blush deepened even further, and she began stammering awkwardly, eyes darting nervously around the room. "Ah-w-well-I mean-I was just teasing you, Harry-I didn't think-bloody hell," she muttered sheepishly, glancing quickly toward Narcissa as if for help.
Narcissa merely raised one elegant eyebrow at her niece, her expression one of amused innocence. "Careful, Nymphadora dear," she teased gently. "You might just find yourself getting caught up in that so-called 'harem' you mentioned."
Tonks huffed softly, giving me a shy but playful glare. "Right. I'll, uh, keep that in mind..."
"Don't get pregnant while you're on duty, Tonks..." Amelia simply said with a sigh before the meeting came to an end.
"I can't wait to see you later in Defense Against the Dark Arts," I told Narcissa before leaving Dumbledore's office and heading to Transfiguration class.
— Tonks —
Damn bloody sexy famous wizards, Tonks thought irritably, feeling her cheeks heat up uncontrollably as she tried desperately-and failed-to keep her composure. Her Metamorphmagus powers normally let her disguise her emotions, but whenever she was flustered or embarrassed, they had a mind of their own. And right now, her feelings were anything but steady.
Ever since Harry Sitri-the so-called "Boy Who Lived"-had returned to the wizarding world after nearly nineteen years, she'd seen his picture splashed across newspapers every single day. Of course, she'd always noticed he was handsome, even in those blurry newspaper photos.
But seeing him in person was something else entirely.
Harry was tall and muscular, with broad shoulders and a confident stance. His dark black hair was slightly messy in an effortlessly attractive way, framing a face that was nothing short of sinful perfection. And those baby-blue eyes-Merlin, those eyes seemed capable of seeing straight through her, as if they could pull out her very soul.
Just thinking about it now sent a heated shiver racing through her body, and Tonks pressed her thighs tightly together, trying to suppress the hot, achy sensation that had formed between them. She was painfully aware that her panties had grown decidedly damp from the combination of embarrassment, arousal, and sheer flustered attraction. It certainly didn't help matters that Harry had effortlessly caught her in his strong, muscular arms just moments ago. And then he'd had the audacity-the sexy, infuriating audacity-to gently lift her hand to his lips and press a suave, confident kiss to her knuckles, sending her heart into a frantic rhythm.
Smooth bastard, she thought grudgingly, but the thought was accompanied by a rush of heat rather than annoyance. No wonder half the witches in Britain fantasize about him.
Tonks shuffled awkwardly on her feet, her mind completely distracted as she stared at the empty space where Harry had been standing just moments before. Her hair continued shifting through a rainbow array of colors, betraying her conflicted emotions. She had almost forgotten where she was until a sharp, irritated cough from her boss brought her abruptly back to reality.
"Tonks," Amelia Bones said sternly, fixing the younger Auror with an icy glare. "Are you perhaps forgetting something?"
Tonks jumped slightly, her eyes widening as she snapped back to attention. "Uh...ma'am?"
Amelia sighed deeply, clearly exasperated, as she gestured pointedly toward the office door. "I'm fairly certain that the young man you're assigned to protect just walked out of this office, Auror Tonks. And yet you're standing here, looking like a lovesick teenager, instead of following him." She leaned forward slightly, voice dropping into a dangerously stern tone. "Let me make this perfectly clear, Nymphadora. Until we apprehend whoever is responsible for these attacks, your entire job is to shadow Mr. Sitri at all times. You are to attend every single class he attends. You are to sit beside him at every meal he takes. And above all, you are to keep him safe. Is that understood?"
Tonks flushed furiously at her own embarrassing lapse, feeling her heart sink slightly at the sheer stupidity of letting her guard down so easily. "Oh, fuck," she muttered in embarrassment before straightening quickly, eyes wide as she snapped to attention. "Right! I'm so sorry, ma'am! On it!"
Tonks spun around hurriedly, nearly tripping once more as she rushed toward the door of Dumbledore's office. Behind her, she heard the soft, melodic sound of her Aunt Narcissa chuckling amusedly, clearly entertained by her niece's clumsy exit.
Tonks frowned slightly to herself as she moved quickly down the winding staircase. She wasn't entirely sure how she felt about Narcissa Malfoy-well, Narcissa Black now?-suddenly re-entering her family's life. Her mother, Andromeda, had suffered deeply when she'd lost contact with both of her younger sisters years ago. It had left a lasting scar on their family. So Tonks couldn't help but be cautious about Narcissa suddenly claiming she wanted to repair the family bonds.
But now wasn't the time to dwell on family drama. She had a critical job to do.
"Bloody hell, it's been years. Where was the Transfiguration classroom located again?" she muttered under her breath.
— Narcissa —
Narcissa arrived at the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom just a few minutes before her first lesson was scheduled to begin. Enough time to introduce herself to the obvious fraud, Gilderoy Lockhart, but not nearly enough time to be forced into prolonged interaction. Not that she had any intention of spending even a moment longer than necessary with the insufferable fool.
She adjusted her pristine, elegantly tailored teaching robes, lifting her chin confidently before grasping the door handle and pushing it open smoothly. Narcissa stepped inside, heels clicking sharply against the polished stone floor.
Immediately, her eyes fell upon Lockhart, who was perched shamelessly on top of his desk at the front of the classroom. He held a small, ornate hand mirror in front of his face, staring deeply at his own reflection with an utterly besotted expression.
"Who's the handsomest, sexiest professor that's ever lived?" he whispered softly to himself, his voice dripping with an absurd amount of self-admiration. "You are, Gilderoy. Yes, you are. This school is lucky to have you, isn't it? Oh, yes, it absolutely is!"
Narcissa raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow, immediately feeling a surge of disgust and irritation. Merlin's beard, she thought dryly, shaking her head slightly, how did this utter buffoon ever fool anyone into hiring him? Even standing here in his classroom doorway, she had already come up with at least a dozen ways she could permanently remove him from his position so she could swiftly become the full-time Defense professor herself.
And it was still only her first day. She hadn't even taught a single class yet.
Narcissa cleared her throat deliberately, the sound echoing crisply through the room. Lockhart jumped in fright, letting out a high-pitched squeal as the small mirror flew from his hand, sailing through the air before crashing loudly onto the stone floor and shattering into pieces.
"O-oh! Er-Hello, Narcissa!" Lockhart stammered nervously, his handsome face instantly flushing bright red with embarrassment. He hastily slid off the desk, fumbling awkwardly as he tried to regain his composure, straightening his extravagant robes.
"It's been a long time, hasn't it?" he added weakly, giving her a forced, unsteady smile.
"Indeed it has, Lockhart," Narcissa replied coolly, strolling closer with measured, graceful strides until she stood directly in front of him, deliberately invading his personal space.
She tilted her head slightly, openly studying him with faint contempt. It was true-they had unfortunately attended Hogwarts during the same years. Somehow, this ridiculous fraud had managed to get sorted into Ravenclaw, something she'd always found utterly baffling. Especially since she vividly remembered him having literally the lowest grades in the entire history of that house. Everyone had assumed he'd fail spectacularly, but rumors had persisted that Lockhart had managed to pass by seducing certain impressionable female professors in exchange for better marks.
Narcissa momentarily frowned, briefly contemplating an unsettling question: Had the vain idiot even slept with Professor McGonagall? She immediately pushed that disturbing mental image aside, shuddering inwardly. Not that McGonagall would ever admit it, she supposed.
Lockhart laughed nervously, shifting his feet uneasily beneath her penetrating gaze. Narcissa allowed herself a small smirk, knowing exactly why he was so uncomfortable. Years ago, during their Hogwarts days, Lockhart had made the fatal mistake of attempting to flirt with her once-just once.
In response, Narcissa had calmly threatened to hex off his bits in front of the entire Great Hall. He had wisely avoided her ever since, apparently never quite recovering from that particular humiliation.
Strangely enough, Narcissa found herself briefly comparing him to Lucius. Was it truly pathetic that even a hopeless fool like Lockhart might have made a less abusive, less horrible husband than Lucius Malfoy?
Yes. It most definitely was. And Narcissa quickly banished the thought from her mind.
After all, Lucius was behind her now. She belonged, body and soul-quite literally-to a far better man. Harry Sitri. Her beloved master and king.
Lockhart coughed awkwardly again, clearly unsure how to deal with her silent contemplation. Narcissa blinked once, quickly regaining her composure. She narrowed her eyes slightly, speaking clearly and calmly, making sure Lockhart understood her meaning perfectly.
"Let me be blunt, Lockhart," she said smoothly, her voice a mix of ice and velvet. "I'm here to help you teach this subject properly. I highly recommend you stay out of my way entirely. If you manage to do that, I'm certain we'll both get along splendidly."
Lockhart swallowed audibly, eyes wide, nodding rapidly in clear agreement. "Y-yes! Yes, of course, Narcissa-I can absolutely do that!"
Narcissa smiled faintly, enjoying the obvious fear she still inspired in him after all these years. "Good," she purred softly, turning away smoothly as she began setting down her teaching materials on her new desk beside his. "And just what exactly is the lesson plan you've prepared for today's third-year class?"
He jumped slightly, clearly startled at having a legitimate question asked of him. Lockhart stumbled through his response, nervously stammering out an explanation. "Ah-Professor Snape actually gave me an idea. He suggested teaching about werewolves, seeing as there was a full moon last Friday. Apparently, some of the students claim they heard mysterious howling from the Forbidden Forest." Lockhart quickly laughed weakly, dismissing the idea with a wave of his hand. "Not that I personally believe any of it, of course! Hogwarts is supposed to be entirely safe, after all!"
Narcissa barely suppressed a sigh of annoyance. She knew, for a fact, that the howling in question had been very real indeed. She remembered Harry recounting the story to her-how he and his mother, Serafall, had been confronted by a werewolf last Friday in the Forbidden Forest.
But she wasn't about to reveal that to Lockhart.
Instead, she merely inclined her head smoothly. "I suppose that topic will do," she said coolly. "At least for today. Let's hope you can manage to teach it without further embarrassing yourself."
Lockhart winced at her words, but quickly plastered on a strained smile. "Yes...well, I'm sure it'll be splendid! You'll see!"
"I sincerely doubt that," Narcissa murmured softly under her breath as she glanced away, hearing the first students arriving outside the classroom door.
She straightened her posture elegantly, eyes sharpening as she prepared herself mentally. It was time to show everyone precisely what she was capable of.
And perhaps, if Lockhart proved as incompetent as she expected, she'd be rid of him even sooner than anticipated.
— Sona —
"That man was utterly unpleasant," Fleur muttered irritably, tossing her platinum-blonde hair back over one slender shoulder. Her thick French accent was particularly pronounced now, betraying her frustration. "Such an uncouth and barbaric way of teaching potions."
Beside her, Gabrielle scowled fiercely, blue eyes blazing with indignation as she let loose a rapid-fire string of creative French curses. Several of them were colorful enough that Sona had to press one hand delicately to her lips to hide a soft chuckle of amusement.
Yes, despite the tournament openly promoting inter-school cooperation and teachings, Professor Snape wasn't very happy with foreign students in his class. Or maybe it was just because the two Veella were so distracting-on top of Sona and Tsubaki already being usually very distracting to young men.
Over half of the male students ended up blowing up their cauldrons-too busy staring at the four beautiful non-human women in class.
Tsubaki had gone on ahead, wanting to get some private studying done in the library.
Sona glanced at the two Veela sisters with quiet interest, studying them carefully as the three women walked slowly down the corridor away from the dungeons. Fleur and Gabrielle Delacour were undeniably beautiful, their graceful figures and ethereal features making them stand out vividly amidst the bustling crowd of students hurrying through the halls. Heads turned, conversations paused, and many students openly stared at the striking trio as they passed by.
