Following Procedure

[Nymphadora Tonks]

There was a short, rough hiss as Tonks struck the match against the trunk of the dead tree, the small flame flaring fat and white for a moment as she raised it to her face, shadows flickering over her features. On a night like this a girl needed a cigar, and as she took the first satisfying drag she tossed the match onto the ever sodden leaves, a small wisp of smoke coiling upwards before dying completely.

Holding it in her teeth Tonks rubbed her palms together energetically, generating a bit of much needed heat. Can’t believe they’re calling this June, she thought bitterly, narrowing her eyes as she looked up at the cloudy, dark sky, not a single star in sight.

A soft growl. ‘Shhhh.’ Tonks replied.

This was her second night at her old school, and although nothing had changed she had been far too distracted to simply wander about and recall all the familiar old haunts, or scenes of battles lost and won… even now, as she sat on the fallen, blackened trunk of a petrified tree that had lay in this part of the forest for nearly fifty years – a tree that she had spent half her life sitting on, musing about the future – she thought absolutely nothing of it.

Taking the cigar in her fingers and admiring it thoughtfully, Tonks placed a firm foot on the ribs of the bound werewolf at her feet, the poor, defeat beast withering helplessly every now and then. ‘I look forward to finding out who you are.’ She informed it softly, taking another drag.

An angry snort. 'Procedure, love.'

[Quinn Locksley]

Quinn had had a feeling something was going on in the Forest when she looked out of her room window upon the Forest. It was not as hauntingly still as she was used to so she decided to investigate. She flung her black trench cloak on and left the Three Broomsticks in a flurry. She headed straight for and then into the Forest, her eyes quickly adjusting to the lack of light.

Making her steady way she stopped, observing the markings on the scratched earth. From watching her apprentice she had picked up a thing or two and she knew what had made these. Werewolf. Quinn quickly stood up and looked around. She continued following the track and came upon a peculiar sight. A Miss Nymphadora Tonks with a foot on a bound werewolf.

Quinn crossed her arms and walked closer. "Nicely done, Nymphadora," she jested. She knew how very much she hated her first name and Quinn couldn't help herself. "But I didn't know the Ministry was after werewolves these days?" Another jest. Quinn stood a few feet away glaring at the young Auror.

[Nymphadora Tonks]

Tonks's eyes glowed an intense orange as they snapped upon Quinn, burning the same colour as the embers at the end of her cigar. She took it from her lips and clenched her jaw tightly, doing her very best to refrain from biting back. 'Wotcher, Quinn,' she replied, knowing it didn't quite have to same effect.

Her hair changed from a midnight blue to a sleepy lavander, and standing up - one foot still on her prisoner - Tonks cast aside the half-consumed cigar.

The werewolf bucked it's shoulders at the sight of Quinn, the tough knot of rope around its snout preventing it from snapping its jaws in anger. 'Well,' Tonks mused, raising one eyebrow. 'It's always nice to do things how they were done before all this Hogwarts malarkey.' She crouched down now, gingerly placing a hand on the beast's back and running her fingers through it's course, wiry fur. 'Eighty-eight percent of all half-breeds are unregistered, don't you know? Whoever this is, I bet they're part of that percentage...'

A small breeze passed through the branches above their heads, the dry leaves rustling against each other angrily. 'Never know. Might be one of your lost rogues.' She said very slowly, unsmiling as she stared provocatively at Quinn, teasing her.

[Quinn Locksley]

Quinn sneered a cackle. Saying her name showed nothing more then she knew it and that was good enough for Quinn. She walked to the werewolf and pulled on it's bindings. "Nicely caught," she said as she stood up straight. The bindings were well secure, pity, Quinn thought, I haven't seen much action in a while.

"And I'm sure you have caught one of those 88," she said, mocking. She crossed her arms and slid her wand back into her pocket inconspicuously. "But will you go back to London to deal with this yourself?" she frowned, "I have an excellent apprentice who would be more then happy to be your scribe." Quinn was running out of things to give Greenwich to do and had to find something for him to do.

"A Rogue?" Quinn said in a high pitched voice. She lowered her head when she realised she was jutting out her powerful jaw and said, grimacing, "touché." If it was it would certainly make her life much simpler however that would also put her in the Auror's debt and Quinn didn't like the sound of that. "More work for my apprentice," she said as though she had invented the candle.

[Nymphadora Tonks]

'Go back to London? Well certainly...' Tonks stood up and tucked her hands in her pockets.

'Course, I'll be back in plenty of time to do the rest of my duties, don't you worry, Foxy - ' Tonks's favourite nickname for her colleague. 'Your lovely little apprentice can keep shining your shoes for you.' She winked, grinning shamelessly.

Tonks was never usually in such darkly quipping mood, but there had always been something about Quinn - probably the fact that Quinn had passed her stealth exam first time round, unlike Tonks, or the fact that she was already squad leader on potential alone - that niggled Tonks in some way. She desperately wanted to believe it was rivalry rather than jealousy, but even as Tonks stood over a werewolf she had single handed captured, Quinn still felt like top dog.

Tonks narrow her eyes childishly.

Several eerie great howls drifted out of the night, at least four werewolves letting their war cry echo through the maze of trees, warning everything that they were coming. 'Want to give me a hand?' Tonks looked to Quinn, a rush of excitement filling her as she realised there'd be more than one arrest tonight.

[Quinn Locksley]

It always made Quinn's evening to see that she had made someone uncomfortable and uneasy just as she did with Tonks now. The Auror shifted and her hollow words were clearly meant to stab but barely scratched. Quinn crossed her arms and jutted out her jaw, adopting a powerful controlling stance. Foxy? she growled but made nothing of it.

It was a foolish question to ask on Tonk's part for Quinn had drawn her wand the instant she had heard the howls. Quinn stood still and looked around through the gloomy, misty dark of the undergrowth. Werewolves ... she thought.

How long it had been since she had fought a few werewolves, Quinn could not remember. The one thing that did resonate through her memory was that werewolves were dangerous and should not be aloud to get near. Quinn didn't much fancy the idea of having a heaving, slobbering, mangy mutt of a werewolf anywhere near her new coal black cloak.

Quinn turned her attention to Tonks now and said, "as long as they don't get my hand I would be happy to help." Another sarcastic remark. Quinn had been getting so good at controlling her tongue but in one fowl swoop she had destroyed all her hard work. She didn't mind much at this point, werewolves were on the prowl and had undoubtedly picked up their scents and they would be on their way. Quinn watched and waited.

[Nymphadora Tonks]

The werewolf under Tonks's foot struggled angrily, its whole body tensing as it heard its kin coming to the rescue. Despite the gag it still managed to howl back. 'They're not your real family, darling,' Tonks smiled pityingly as she pointed her wand at its head. ' But I expect your real one disowned you. Stupefy!' A glaring red flash, and the poor beast slackened, its head dropping to the floor heavily. Roughly removing her foot from its hide, Tonks joined Quinn’s side as the other woman approached, the two of them remaining silent as they began to stride toward the growing cries.

Like a baby in a womb, Tonks felt the quick of guilt, the same kind she always got after delivering that sort of justice. At the time she would always revel in what she was doing, half-fantasising about how magnificent and suave she must look bringing down the bad guy without so much as breaking a sweat. Of course, almost immediately after she would feel undiluted anger for being such a shameless exhibitionist, filled with self-loathing for having absolutely no conscience for whoever – or whatever – she was humiliating. It made her feel like an arrogant child.

Killing her personal feelings – for they always found time for her later – Tonks signalled for Quinn to go left while she leaped to the right, using a wide tree as cover. The wind had abruptly changed direction so that their scents were being blown away from the approaching werewolves, and using it to her advantage Tonks began to climb the tree she was using as cover, already her surroundings much clearer.

Expectedly Quinn had already completely vanished, untraceable.

There was a long, unsettling moment of stillness, like the moment between the countdown finishing and the bomb going off, before the first large black shadow glided into sight in the moon-lit mist below, its long sleek body frightening and dark. ‘Expluso!’ Tonks shouted, a great oak blasting apart at its base and falling down in front of the beast, blocking the passage to its captured friend.

Immediately twelve eyes shone up at her, beginning to circle…