Which did little to explain why he was here, why he was waiting. He knew she knew her assignment. He knew that there was no one better to infiltrate the club of young underlings in the Dark Lord's servants. He knew he could trust her to do her job and not be swayed by money or drink or drug or sex. He knew he could trust her and, most troubling, he did trust her.

And he didn't trust anyone.

"Well? What do you think?" She stopped at the top of the stairs and looked down at him. Her dress was black lace with something flesh colored beneath. The bust line was low enough to give a dark hint of her nipples and her lips were redder than the blood red curtains behind her. Her hair was black and curled around her face like a waterfall of ink.

"You look like a harlot."

"Ah," she nodded. "But an upscale one?" She walked down the stairs slowly, her face intent as she concentrated on making her way in the high-heeled boots that encased her feet. "One that could attract a Malfoy or a Goyle or a Zabini?" She reached the bottom of the steps and crossed one leg over the other, the sheen of her nylons glinting silkily in the candlelight. "Though one would hope they had someone either older than the likes of Draco or better looking than Veldan Goyle." She shuddered. "It's terrible, you know. All I can do is stare at that thing on his nose."

She walked toward him, growing more graceful with every step. He shook his head slightly. "At least it's near his eyes, so you look somewhat interested."

"Not that they notice, since they're only staring at my breasts."

His gaze shot to the object of discussion. "You don't have to do this."

Her forehead creased with a frown. "Of course I do. What do you mean?"

"No. I don't think that Dumbledore wanted you to tart yourself up to get information. It's absolutely ridiculous."

"Why do you say that?" Hurt echoed in her voice as her features began to change, melt into the spiky purple hair. The makeup and dress seemed garish and ill-fitting on her frame as her shoulders slumped. "Because I'm not beautiful?"

He laughed then snapped his mouth closed at her wounded look. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. Sirius and Narcissa and Bellatrix and Regulus got everything, didn't they? Nothing left for Andromeda and her mutt offspring." She looked away, her chin quivering. "Perhaps Dumbledore can find someone else."

"Perhaps Dumbledore can stick a lemon sweet…" He bit off his words and took a step toward her. "Do you know that I can see you?"

"Well, one would hope. I'm right in front of you and you've a magical eye."

"No. I mean always. No matter what guise you're in. I see you."

Horror filled her features and she took a step back, sprawling on the floor in a tangle of legs and lace. She scooted back until she smacked against the curved staircase. "Go away." Her features flashed and changed, swirling through colors and lengths and styles.

Moody stamped his foot hard and his voice echoed with his shout. "Stop." Tonks froze, her features molding into the sharp, aristocratic lines of the house of Black. "Just because you share their beauty doesn't mean that you share their madness."

She got to her feet with his assistance, freeing her hand from his as soon as she could. "They burned our branch of the family tree. It doesn't change the fact that we share the same roots." She morphed back into the seductress who had wound her way down the steps to his feet. "I have an assignment."

Moody clenched his jaw and nodded once. "Be careful."

She ignored his warning. "Goodnight."