Chapter 4

The days had started to blur, melting into one another in a dizzying haze of laughter, smoky perfume, too-short skirts, and whispered conversations that never reached the light of day. The kind of life you learnt to wear like a second skin—tight, itchy, but somehow necessary.

Tonks had taken it upon herself to show Badeea the ropes. No one had asked her to. It just happened. There was something in the girl's eyes—too wide, too trusting—that made Tonks think, If I don't teach her, someone worse will.

Of course, they never called it what it was. Not properly. Certainly not aloud.

Prostitution was too blunt, too ugly a word. So they softened it. Called it the work or our arrangement. Sometimes it was just the thing we did. Wrap it up in enough euphemisms, and it almost felt like something else. Almost.

She still remembered the look on Badeea's face that first night—half horror, half fascination—as Tonks tossed a pair of fishnet tights and a black skirt onto the made-up bed in the Room of Requirement. The skirt was so tiny it barely counted as fabric.

"Are you serious?" Badeea had asked, holding the clothes like they were cursed.

Tonks had sprawled lazily on the edge of the bed, wand tapping against her knee, her bubblegum-pink hair falling into her eyes. "Deadly serious. You'll look bloody fantastic."

"I… I don't think I can wear this," Badeea had said quietly, eyes flickering to the mirror on the wall, like it might shout the truth back at her.

Tonks's grin softened. She sat up, voice gentler now. "You can. Doesn't have to be you, love. It's just a part you play. Like acting. You fake it till it doesn't scare you anymore."

There had been a long pause, and for a moment, Tonks thought she'd pushed too far. But then Badeea gave the tiniest nod, the kind that said, I don't know what I'm doing, but I trust you. That was enough.

Over the next few days, Tonks gave her everything she could. Not just clothes—though there were plenty of those—but knowledge. Tips. Rules. The little things no one ever said out loud. How to hold your gaze without seeming confrontational. How to flirt just enough. How to keep your hands busy so they don't shake. How to make someone feel wanted without giving them anything of yourself.

And most importantly: how to survive.

Tonks watched Badeea take it all in like parchment soaking up ink—shaky at first, but determined. Even when the girl looked like she wanted to crawl out of her own skin, she kept going.

She copied Chiara's sly smirks. Laughed a little too loudly at Penny's jokes. Watched Tonks with that look—like her approval was something sacred.

Poor thing, Tonks thought more than once. She just wants someone to stay. To want her. Who doesn't?

By Saturday morning, the air in the common room felt heavy, and Tonks could tell they needed a breather. A proper one. Something normal. Or at least something that pretended to be.

"We're going to Hogsmeade," she announced, stuffing coins into her jacket pocket, her hair a messy tangle of pink waves. "You need sweets. I need new socks. Come on."

Badeea looked up from where she was sitting cross-legged in the Great Hall. "We're just… going out?"

Tonks snorted. "What d'you think this is, some kind of prison sentence? Course we are. It's not all doom and shagging, you know. We do fun things too. Sort of."

They met Chiara and Penny at the gates. Chiara immediately squealed, draping herself over Badeea's shoulders.

"Would you look at you!" she beamed. "Proper little heartbreaker now."

Badeea blushed furiously, smile curling despite herself. Penny handed her a sugar quill with a theatrical wink. "You've passed the vibe check, babe. Consider yourself officially one of us."

Tonks trailed behind them slightly as they walked towards the village, watching as Badeea's shoulders loosened, her laughter growing more natural. For the first time in days, she wasn't clutching her bag like a shield.

That's it, Tonks thought. Let her have this. Let her feel like she belongs—even if just for today.

The cobbled streets of Hogsmeade were bustling, the smell of cinnamon and ink wafting from the shops. They flitted from shopfront to shopfront like magpies, their pockets jingling with stolen Sickles and charmed trinkets. Chiara found a mirror that insulted you if you looked tired—"Bloody hell, that's exactly what I need"—and Penny flirted with the shop boy at Scrivenshaft's until he nearly dropped his quill.

Tonks pulled Badeea aside outside Gladrags Wizardwear, where she spotted a little charm bracelet dangling in the window display.

"Come on," she said, tugging her inside. "You need something shiny."

She picked out a silver bracelet strung with tiny enchanted charms. It glowed faintly pink the moment it touched Badeea's skin.

"What does pink mean?" Badeea asked softly, running her fingers over it.

Tonks hesitated, then said, quieter than she expected, "Means you're safe."

Badeea looked up at her, eyes wide. For a moment, neither of them said anything.

Later, at The Three Broomsticks, they huddled into a booth at the back, mugs of butterbeer steaming between their hands. Chiara was animatedly describing her latest client—"Looked like a troll in a bowler hat, swear to Merlin"—and the others burst into laughter.

Tonks leaned back in her seat, legs stretched out, watching Badeea laugh along with the others. Her face was flushed from the warmth, her eyes sparkling in a way Tonks hadn't seen since she arrived.

And yet… that warmth didn't quite reach Tonks's chest.

Remus.

His name echoed in her mind like the aftertaste of something bittersweet. She hadn't seen him in class yet. She told herself it was because he was still recovering. Ill, resting. But her mind kept circling back to the last time she saw him—how soft his voice had been. How steady his eyes were.

And Lily.

Always Lily.

Beautiful Lily, standing beside him like she'd been carved to fit there. Like she belonged.

He looked at her like she was the only one who mattered.

Tonks sipped her drink, bitterness curling on her tongue. Don't be stupid, she told herself for the hundredth time. You had one proper conversation. That doesn't mean anything. You don't have some grand bloody claim on him.

Still, the memory wouldn't leave her. The way he'd spoken to her, gently but not condescendingly. Like he saw her. The way he didn't flinch from her truths.

She hadn't told the others about the private lessons starting Monday. Something about it felt… fragile. Like if she said it aloud, it would vanish.

Part of her wanted to skip it. Stay far away and let the whole thing fade into a silly crush.

But another part—the reckless, stubborn bit—was already thinking about what to wear.

The castle had gone quiet.

That dense, oppressive kind of quiet that seemed to settle into the stones themselves. It wasn't peaceful. Not really. It was the hush of something lurking. Of secrets pressed between floorboards. The kind of silence that made you think twice before breathing too loudly.

Tonks crept down the corridor like a shadow in borrowed socks. She was wrapped in her oversized Hufflepuff jumper, the sleeves pulled down past her hands. Her hair was dulled to a flat brown tonight—something forgettable. She didn't want to be noticed. Not now.

She'd waited for the others to fall asleep. Chiara had gone down first, sprawled across her bed like a cat, one arm hanging off the mattress, breathing steady. Penny took longer—Tonks had to pretend to be asleep for a good ten minutes before the soft rustling of the bedsheets stopped.

Tonks had waited another five minutes after that. Just in case.

Then she'd slid out of bed, grabbed her wand, and slipped from the dormitory barefoot, moving like she'd done it a hundred times before.

She knew the path by heart: down the stairs, past the low hum of the common room fire, out through the barrels in the Hufflepuff cellar. She left behind the comfort of warm hearthlight for the cold, echoing dark of the upper corridors. The castle felt different at night—older, somehow. More alive.

By the time she reached the seventh-floor corridor, her breath had slowed, her steps confident. She walked past the blank stretch of wall three times, her thoughts precise.

A room for us. Where no one hears. Where no one asks questions. Where the truth can live without anyone trying to scrub it out.

And just like always, the door appeared.

She slipped inside without hesitation.

The room had taken on its usual form—the one it always seemed to wear for her and Ismelda. Rich, dark wooden floors covered in old velvet rugs. Candles in floating sconces, flickering lazily against the walls. Cushions everywhere, like some half-forgotten Bohemian den. It smelt faintly of lavender.

And there, in the centre of it all, was Ismelda.

Perched on a cushion with her legs tucked under her, her back straight, arms folded across her chest. She looked up the moment Tonks entered.

A smile ghosted across her lips, like time hadn't passed at all.

"Took you long enough," she said, voice low and dry.

Tonks shut the door behind her with a soft click and leaned against it for a moment, arms folded. "Didn't think you'd still be here."

"I always wait," Ismelda said, and something in the way she said it made Tonks's stomach twist.

She crossed the room, lowering herself to the cushions with a slow, tired sigh. "Haven't seen you since the… you know."

Ismelda raised an eyebrow. "The stunt. You mean the one where I almost got detention from Professor Lupin?"

Tonks winced. "You weren't meant to go that far."

Ismelda gave a shrug that wasn't really a shrug. "Did what you asked."

"Yeah." Tonks ran a hand through her hair, now slowly shifting back to a soft pink as her guard came down. "You did. And I mean it—thank you. That scene? At the castle grounds? It worked. Badeea was desperate to prove herself after that. She's in."

"I know," Ismelda said simply. "I saw."

There was a pause.

Tonks picked at a thread in her jumper, suddenly unable to meet Ismelda's eyes. "You made yourself the villain so I wouldn't have to. That wasn't fair on you."

"I don't mind being the villain," Ismelda replied, tone unreadable. "Not if it's for you."

Tonks felt something tighten behind her ribs. There was always something about Ismelda that made her feel seen in ways she didn't entirely like. Like the girl could read the things she didn't say—the twisted logic, the cold calculations.

But Ismelda didn't flinch at them. She understood them. Played along.

And lately, Tonks had been surrounded by people who didn't.

"I should've come sooner," she muttered.

"You didn't," Ismelda said, flatly. "You've been busy. With your new best friends."

Tonks looked up, properly this time. Ismelda's face was mostly blank, but her hands were clenched tightly in her lap.

"You're jealous," Tonks said, not accusing, just quietly.

Ismelda's mouth twisted. "Aren't I allowed to be? You used to tell me everything. Now I hear about your little missions second-hand. I watch you laugh with them like you mean it."

"I don't mean it," Tonks said quickly. Too quickly.

Ismelda gave her a look. "Don't lie to me."

Tonks sighed, head dropping into her hands. She scrubbed her fingers through her hair before looking at her again. "Fine. Maybe I do like them. A little. Chiara's funny. Penny's sharp. Badeea's… sweet. But that's not why I'm with them."

"Then why?"

"Because they're useful. That's all." Tonks's voice went cold. "They're part of the plan. Pieces on the board. I need them close so I can move them where I want. That's how this works."

"And me?"

Tonks shifted forward, reaching out without thinking. Her fingers brushed Ismelda's wrist. "You're not a piece. You're the only one I don't have to pretend with. You're the only one who gets it. Who gets me."

Ismelda's eyes flickered. "I don't want to be your secret."

"You're not a secret," Tonks said softly. "You're my only real friend. The others—none of them know me. Not properly. Not like you do."

Ismelda looked at her for a long moment, and Tonks could see the wall between them crumbling. Bit by bit.

Finally, she nodded. "Alright. I believe you."

Tonks let out a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding. She stared up at the gently floating lights. "Merlin, I'm tired."

"I should hex you for making me wait this long."

"You could try," Tonks muttered, eyes fluttering shut. "Wouldn't work."

For a while, they said nothing. Just the soft crackle of candle flames and the sound of their breathing.

Then, quietly, Ismelda asked, "How long do you think this'll go on? This game of yours?"

Tonks kept her eyes closed. "As long as it needs to."

"And after?"

"I don't know," she whispered. "I haven't thought that far ahead."

Ismelda didn't push. She just lay down beside her, close but not touching.

They stayed like that for a long time. Two girls in the dark, surrounded by shadows, both pretending they didn't need the other as much as they did.

Monday morning came far too quickly.

The kind of morning where everything felt a little too loud and a little too bright. The chatter in the Great Hall echoed off the walls like someone had turned up the volume on the world. Tonks made her way through the long rows of students, weaving between bags and cloaks and flapping owls, her stomach twisting in a way that had nothing to do with hunger.

She spotted them straight away.

Chiara had taken her usual spot at the Hufflepuff table, one leg curled beneath her, already elbow-deep in a bowl of porridge she clearly didn't want. Penny was next to her, flicking through a Prophet article with narrowed eyes and a muttered, "Honestly, absolute rubbish, this." Badeea sat across from them, neat as ever, sipping tea with both hands like it was keeping her upright.

Tonks slid onto the bench beside Chiara with a dramatic sigh, throwing her arms over the table like a wilted flower.

Chiara looked up, amused. "Well, someone's feeling theatrical this morning."

Tonks didn't reply right away. She just groaned into her sleeve.

"I take it that something's happened," Penny said dryly, peering at her over her glasses.

Tonks turned her head slowly, face still half-buried in her jumper. "I'm in trouble."

Chiara grinned. "Proper trouble, or your usual 'I've fallen for someone and don't know how to function' sort of trouble?"

Tonks lifted her head and narrowed her eyes. "You lot are insufferable."

"Oh, absolutely," Chiara said brightly. "Now spill."

Tonks sighed, sat up straight, and looked around to make sure no one was paying too much attention. Then she leaned in a little closer.

"It's Lupin," she said in a low voice.

Badeea blinked. "Professor Lupin?"

Penny's eyebrows shot up. "You fancy him?"

"I never said that," Tonks muttered quickly, cheeks already beginning to burn.

"You didn't have to," Chiara said, smirking. "It's written all over your ridiculous face."

Tonks buried her hands in her hair. "I don't know what it is, alright? He's just… different. He doesn't treat me like a nuisance. He listens. Properly listens."

She looked up at them, eyes wide with something between panic and giddiness. "And today—he's starting these private lessons with me. Just me and him. And I know it's probably going to be nothing but history dates and old battles in the 17th century, but part of me—Merlin—part of me hopes we'll just talk."

Badeea smiled softly. "That doesn't sound terrible."

"It sounds adorable," Chiara said, popping a grape into her mouth. "So what's the problem?"

Tonks groaned again. "Lily, that's what."

All three girls blinked.

Tonks leaned forward like she was sharing state secrets. "She was there. In the Hospital Wing. The night I went to visit him. Perfumed to the heavens. Heels. Lipstick. Looking like she was about to waltz into Madam Puddifoot's."

Chiara's jaw dropped. "Wait. Wait—Lily?"

"She's not a student, right?" Penny frowned.

"No, I don't think so," Tonks said, trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice and failing spectacularly. "Looks like they know each other from childhood. And the way she looked at him—like she owned him."

"She visited him while he was ill?" Badeea asked quietly.

Tonks nodded. "I went to see him to make sure he was alright. We were talking, and she just showed up. Stood next to his bed like she belonged there. I—I left. I couldn't even look at him."

"You stormed out?" Penny asked, clearly fascinated.

"Not stormed," Tonks snapped. "I left. Quietly. Mostly."

There was a beat of silence. Then Chiara said, with an utterly wicked smile, "You were jealous."

"No, I wasn't!"

"Oh, babe," Penny said, her grin spreading slowly. "You absolutely were. You're blushing."

Tonks slapped her hands over her cheeks. "It's just hot in here."

"It's October," Chiara said.

"Lily," Badeea repeated, frowning. "She's the one with the hair. The red hair. I think we saw her when we were walking back inside the castle."

"And the attitude," Penny added. "The kind of girl who'd wear perfume to a hospital."

Chiara scoffed. "Heels in the Hospital Wing? How desperate can you get?"

"Exactly!" Tonks burst out. "Who does that? I mean, I get it—she's fit and clever, and she knows him already, and she's got that bloody perfect hair, and I'm just—" She cut herself off, breath catching. "I shouldn't have left like that. He probably thinks I'm ridiculous. I've ruined everything before it's even started."

"No," Penny said firmly. "You're just falling for someone and panicking. Very normal. Very tragic."

"I'm not falling for him."

"Yes, you are," Chiara said, practically bouncing. "It's adorable."

"It's mortifying," Tonks muttered, hiding her face again.

"You're cute when you're jealous," Penny teased.

"You're cute when you're human," Chiara added, gently bumping Tonks's shoulder. "Honestly, I was starting to think you didn't have feelings."

Badeea reached across the table and gave her hand a small squeeze. "It's alright to care about someone, Tonks."

Tonks didn't respond for a moment. Just sat there, cheeks flushed, heart thudding.

It was terrifying how easy it was to lose control of something she hadn't even admitted to herself. How one glance, one perfume-drenched memory, could leave her feeling exposed. Weak.

But with her friends around her—laughing, teasing, nudging her like she hadn't just confessed the most vulnerable thing she'd said all year—Tonks found herself smiling.

Just a little.

"I still think it's a mistake," she muttered.

"Probably," Penny said. "But those are the best ones."

"And if Lily does turn out to be your rival," Chiara added, "we'll hex her shoes off."

"You lot are mental," Tonks said fondly.

"And you're in love," Chiara sang.

"I am not—!"

But they were already laughing, and Tonks, despite herself, was laughing too.