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The itch on Tonk’s nose had become unbearable, but she knew better than to move. They’d been outside for an hour already, Tonks arranged in an uncomfortable position on the grass and shivering in the cool early morning air. She chanced a glance towards the canvas. With the painter completely hidden, she figured it was safe and quickly rubbed her nose.
“Shit,” she heard Fleur mutter behind the canvas. Tonks usually loved hearing foul words come out of Fleur’s perfect mouth, the sweetness of her honey voice softening the harshness of her curses. “Bordel de merde!” Tonks froze, scolding herself for moving.
“Alright?” Tonks asked cautiously, trying to get her hand back in the exact position it was supposed to be in. Fleur’s blue eyes popped over the top of the canvas and Tonks’ breath caught as they landed on her. Even after seeing her flatmate every day since they moved in together three months ago, she was still startled by the witch’s beauty.
After working together during the war, they’d become close, often sent by the Order on missions together due to their unique skills. They had originally bonded over a love of defensive magic, both witches eager to outdo each other. But when the pair was hunkered down, waiting for Death Eaters, they talked to pass the time and began to uncover similarities, from their mutual dislike of being underestimated to the strange way people treated them due to their extra abilities.
When the war ended, neither had wanted to live alone again, both carrying baggage they hadn’t had before. While Remus and Sirius had offered her a place at Grimmauld, Tonks wasn’t keen on living with a married couple. Instead, when Fleur asked if she’d be interested in getting a flat in Diagon Alley, she jumped at the chance.
She’d assumed her attraction to Fleur during the war was a passing fancy, a safe fantasy during the chaos of missions. Tonks knew the French witch was straight, never returning any of her attempts at blatant flirting. When they got the flat, she decided to bury her feelings, ignoring them until they withered. But the proximity and routine of living together dug her infatuation up with a vengeance. Tonks was beginning to drive herself crazy, wanting someone who could never want her back.
So crazy, that she’d woken up at an ungodly hour to act as a model for her just-a-friend flatmate.
“What’s wrong?” Tonks asked when the other witch didn’t answer, still muttering a string of curses under her breath. She could only make out every other word, recognizing a bulk of them as dirty French words. “Fleur?”
“It iz nothing,” she replied, standing straighter and walking around the canvas. Her moonlight hair was piled carelessly on her head, and she looked effortlessly chic in her blue Muggle sundress.“It’s just ze background.”
“What’s wrong with the background?” she asked, looking around the empty park Fleur had picked. The blonde shook her head, grimacing. “I think it’s nice,” Tonks added as she looked back at the other witch.
Fleur sighed, but her pinched features softened. As she did, all Tonks could think about was how it was no surprise Fleur threw herself into painting as a distraction after the war; the witch herself was art. Fleur looked like a marble sculpture come alive, each angle carefully crafted, each curve purposefully made. Or perhaps Fleur was an angel from those Renaissance paintings she loved, colorful and graceful, somehow her cheeks always looking flushed and her hair windblown.
“While zis country iz not as beautiful as France, zis place iz fine,” she amended in an unconvincing tone.
“Why the bloody hell did we wake up at the crack of dawn to paint outside if you don’t even like it?” Tonks asked, incredulous. “We could’ve done this in the flat and I could’ve slept in!”
“I prefer to paint outside,” Fleur said with a shrug, “to be with nature. It iz ze only way to paint.” Tonks rolled her eyes, but managed to bite her tongue at how many times she’d seen Fleur paint inside.
“It’s pretty, ‘suppose,” she offered, wishing she’d stayed in bed instead. “Haven’t spent much time in the great outdoors with work being so busy and all.”
“Tsk,” Fleur tutted in surprise. “For a brilliant Auror, how can there be so much zat you don’t know?”
“Oi,” Tonks exclaimed, fully breaking out of the uncomfortable pose to cross her arms over her chest. “What’s that supposed to mean then?”
“Nature iz everything.” She tucked the escaped blonde tendrils falling in her face behind her ears before gesturing at the scenery around them. “My maman taught me to paint as a girl. She mixed her own paints, like I do, out of what ze Earth provides.” Fleur whispered something and wandlessly plucked a purple flower. “Everything you see can be utilized. Zat’s why I like to paint ze landscapes; to capture ze beauty with the same materials.”
She picked the petals off gently and placed them on the palette, wordlessly crushing them with a wave of her wand. She began to mix the powder in a small bowl on her stool, and the water slowly darkened.
“What are you making?” Tonks asked, straining to see.
“Er, lilac,” Fleur said after a moment, holding out the palette. Tonks liked when she did that, pausing to think of a word. It was rarer now than when they’d first met, her grasp on English advancing to a second nature, but it never failed to bring a smile to Tonks’ face. “I want to paint ze flowers near you. I love ze color - oh!” Fleur looked surprised as she glanced up at Tonks. “You like it too?” she asked as she gestured to her hair.
Heat pooled in her cheeks and Tonks quickly changed her hair back to bubblegum pink. She hadn’t accidentally changed her hair like that since she was a teenager. “It’s fine,” she muttered as she looked at the flowers, eager to avoid Fleur’s analytical eyes.
“Oh, too bad,” Fleur said. “Maybe you can add it to ze repertoire.”
“How are you going to do the flowers?” Tonks pointed to the bed of purple blooms, hoping to change the subject.
“Come try,” the other witch beckoned to her spot behind the canvas again. “Come on.”
“Me? What about your painting?” Tonks asked, stumbling as she stood up.
“What about it?” Fleur shrugged. “Ze beauty in art iz of ze creation. Besides, it iz of ze English countryside, no great loss there.” A smile pulled at the corner of her plump lips.
Tonks walked around the canvas and gasped. Staring back at her was a beautiful likeness of the park, but where she should have been was what looked like a goddess, the figure feminine and glowing. She had only the outline of short hair, the inside of the shape left blank.
“That’s how you see me?” she asked, mesmerized by the woman on the canvas, a foreign form unlike any Tonks felt she could recreate. She glanced between Fleur and the painting, uncharacteristically at a loss for words.
“Zat iz how anyone with eyes sees you, Dora,” the other witch said softly, not breaking eye contact. “You’re a beautiful woman.”
“Says the Veela to the metamorphmagus,” Tonks teased, happy to break the tension with a joke. “This isn’t even my real face, I actually look a lot more like Moody.”
“You could wear any face, mon canard,” Fleur said, shaking her head. “It iz your spirit. But let’s see if zat spirit can create beauty too, no?” She handed Tonks the brush and stepped back. “Just add dots of ze color in this corner first.”
Distracted by the figure and Fleur’s words, Tonks moved the brush slowly towards the painting. Unfortunately, not slowly enough since she flooded color into the corner of the canvas, drenching the grass in purple.
Sirius’ voice sounded in her head, echoing a comment he’d made after an Order meeting just before the Battle of Hogwarts. “Better get on with that,” he’d said between bites of an apple. “She won’t wait around forever.”
“She’s not waiting for someone like me,” Tonks had hissed back, pulling him into the far corner of the kitchen. “And I’d thank you and your partner to not say anything else about it.” She glanced at Remus, chatting with Fleur, no doubt about some painter or French poet.
“Remus was the one who noticed, actually,” Sirius had smirked before taking another bite. “Said something about you reminding him of me when we were younger. But he’s right. She’s interested in you and you’re wasting time.”
“Bugger off,” she’d scoffed, giving him the two-finger salute as she pushed past a confused Remus and an intrigued Fleur, ignoring Sirius’ chuckling as she walked out the door. Whenever Sirius saw Fleur and Tonks in the same room after that, he’d wiggle his eyebrows or wink at her. Usually, Remus would catch on and make him stop, but Tonks resorted to punching him in the arm multiple times, always terrified that Fleur would catch on.
“Oh shit,” she muttered, trying to wipe the pooling purple paint off with her fingers, wondering, if perhaps the comments she’d written off were true. “I’m sorry.”
“Zat iz not a problem,” Fleur said, stepping closer and waving her hand for Tonks to stop. “These brushes are not ze best. I wrote home to see if my family could send some good ones. Just try again, with a feather touch.” She mimicked gentle brushstrokes as she talked.
Tonks mirrored the movement, adding color to the canvas. As she moved, she could see what Fleur was saying. “This looks like flowers!” she squealed, surprised at how she, someone with no artistic ability, could add something to Fleur’s work. “This is fun!” She said, bouncing on her heels, barely resisting jumping for joy.
“Don’t get too excited,” Fleur commanded, gently grabbing her wrist. “Like this,” she moved closer, guiding Tonks’ hand in small brushing motions, adding little flowers across the grass. Tonks couldn’t concentrate on the canvas, too distracted by Fleur’s body heat pressing into her back. Her heart was thumping so loudly she was sure Fleur would hear it, would be disgusted, would want to stop being flatmates.
“Do you see how doing it zis way adds dimension?” Fleur whispered, and Tonks could feel the witch’s hot breath on her neck. Somehow Fleur always seemed to smell like roses, even though in the years they’d known each other, Tonks had never seen her put on perfume.
Tonks looked over her shoulder and Fleur met her eyes before her gaze dropped to her lips. The move surprised Tonks, and she studied the other witch’s delicate features, the graceful curve of her chin, closer than they’d been for this measure of time. Fleur was, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen. The pair of them stayed frozen for a few moments, and doubts swirled in Tonks’ mind.
“ You’re wasting time ,” Sirius’ voice teased from the corner of her mind. Tonks swallowed roughly and pushed herself forward with the courage she’d only called on for taking down Dark wizards. She brushed her lips over Fleur’s gently, unwilling to waste more time. As she moved to pull back, Fleur threaded her hands into her colorful hair and drew her in closer. Tonks dropped the brush and palette, wrapping her hands around Fleur’s waist and kissing her deeply.
She tasted like cherries and dark chocolate, and Tonks leaned in further, desperate for more than just a taste. The kisses slowed, becoming tender and sweet before Fleur pulled back. Tonks felt breathless and dizzy, reaching out to the stool next to them for support.
“I have been wanting to do zat for months,” Fleur whispered, biting her lip.
“What?” Tonks asked, sure her brain had melted due to their kiss. “No, you don’t...you can’t. I thought you liked wizards.”
“I like everyone, I don’t care about ze, er, package they come in. I thought because you are so...you,” Fleur gestured at her as she spoke. “Well, you go after what you want, and I knew you weren’t interested in me because you never spoke up.”
Tonks laughed, a wave of realization coming over her. “Not interested? I flirted with you like no one’s business!”
“You flirt with everyone,” Fleur scoffed, waving her hand. “And you stopped with me.”
“Because I thought you weren’t interested…” Tonks trailed off. “Are you saying we’ve both wanted this all this time? And neither of us did anything about it?” She laughed again. “I didn’t want to lose you,” she said, hearing now how stupid she’d been. The other witch looked at her lips again and Tonks’ stomach flipped.
“Let’s go home? Talk over tea?” Fleur asked, breaking apart from her and turning to pack up her materials.
“Wait.” Tonks reached down and grabbed the forgotten palette and brush. She painted the color lilac within the blank outline of hair in quick broad strokes. She quickly changed her hair to match and smiled, a joy rising from deep within her.
“Now, let’s go,” Tonks said, stepping back, satisfied. Fleur huffed a laugh. “What? Beauty in the art of creation right?”