Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Desperate Times, Desperate Measures	By : Daye Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Harry/Tonks Views: 93080 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 4
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise. I make no money from the writing of this.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
Thanks to all the reviewers! The response to the last chapter was overwhelming, (In a good way) As ever I must single outSalon_Kittty for thanks, without her continued encouragement, discussion and proof reading, updates of this fic would not have recommenced.

Chapter 8: Working for the Weekend

All too soon, it was Tuesday morning, and Tonks was wearing a hole in the Staff room’s carpet with her pacing. Her first lesson with the sixth year NEWT class was rapidly approaching and unlike her other classes Tonks had no idea how she was going to handle it. This wasn’t true. Strictly speaking, she had her lesson plan. In fact, it was the same as the plan for all her first lessons, a brief talk about who she was, why she was here, and the importance of the subject matter in the current times. In reality, what she had no idea how to handle was not her lesson, it was Harry Potter.

At this point it was hardly a new sensation; Tonks had lost track of the number of ups and downs in their relationship over the last couple of months. As easy as it was to simply shrug her shoulders and blame Harry for being a temperamental teenager, the fact was that it shouldn’t have been hard to figure out the reaction an outright denial of his feelings would get. Tonks’ response had been automatic and truthful, but people who said honesty was always the best policy had obviously never had to deal with a sixteen-year-old’s wounded pride.

Still, Tonks would wager that she and Harry would have probably made up by now if they’d just been cooped up in Privet Drive for a few days longer but the return to Hogwarts scuppered that idea, the castle was far too large and easy for him to slip away and avoid her. It wasn’t like she could be seen chasing after him, Harry wasn’t the only one afflicted by pride. That meant the only time she could reliably speak to Harry would be during Defence against the Dark Arts lessons. On her next turn, Tonks happened to look upon the other occupant of the staff room.

Minerva McGonagall looked back at her over the newspaper she was reading. The Deputy Headmistress’ expression was one Tonks remembered from her time as a student and was typical of her; stern with just a slight hint of disapproval. Tonks brushed a honey blonde curl of hair out her face as the elder Witch opened her mouth to speak;

“Professor Tonks,” McGonagall said, her tone striking the same note as her expression, “are you quite alright?”

“Fine, thank you, Professor McGonagall” Tonks replied in a similar voice, “and you?”

“I’m not the one who has been pacing up and down for the last quarter of an hour, Professor,” McGonagall retorted, tartly.

“Do you have a particular problem with me?” Tonks snipped, bristling at the older women’s tone.

“Now that you mention it, I have been wondering how you justify the jelly legs curse being the first thing you’re teaching your First years?” McGonagall asked.

“Just a bit of fun,” Tonks said, shrugging.

“And the students are here to ‘have fun’ are they?” McGonagall assumed a sour expression.

Tonks bit back a harsh retort. Whether she liked it or not, McGonagall was more than just another teacher, she was the deputy headmistress and as such, had more right than some to question her and her teaching methods.

“Not solely, no,” Tonks said, after a pause, “On the other hand, it does help to get the students involved in a subject. And I’d just got finished with my patented ‘danger is everywhere’ speech. I didn’t want to scare them off the subject in their very first lesson. The Jelly-legs Curse is relatively simple, fun and gives them an offensive spell to use when I teach them the shield charm.”

“Hmmpf,” said McGonagall and disappeared back behind her newspaper, “Just try and behave like a professional with the Sixth years, please.”

Tonks had the distinct impression she’d just face some kind of test but whether she had passed or failed it, she didn’t have the slightest clue...

~0~

“Let me know when try-outs are then, Harry!” said an excitable fourth year Gryffindor, who was almost bouncing up and down while talking to the famous young wizard. The famous young wizard who, as he ran his hands through perennially messy dark locks, realised he was late for his next class.

“Sure, right, will do,” Harry said vaguely, while leaping into motion. Striding down the corridor, an edge of nervousness slid into his gut as he sped towards Tonks’ classroom. If there had been one lesson he absolutely did not want to be late for it was Tonks’. Not that he had much to worry about excessive punishment but he’d want to be there to support her and, really he hadn’t wanted to put her in the position where she might have to discipline him. Whatever she did, there would be whisperings of impartial treatment.

He was still travelling at near full tilt as he entered the class room just as the door was swinging shut.

“Sorry, I’m late Professor...” Harry came up short as he caught sight of the teacher at the black board. She was tall and dressed in dark formal robes; her face was thin with a pointed chin and sharply defined cheekbones. Jet black hair was piled on top of her head in a tight bun that made her look very severe.

“...Tonks?” Harry finished, suppressing a double take. He was almost tempted to think he’d walked into the wrong class room by accident but there in the front row were Ron and Hermione, still arranging their books, quills, and parchment and shooting worried glances between him and Tonks.

“Take your seat quickly, please, Mr Potter,” Professor Tonks said coolly, “and I expect this to not become a habit, understood?”

Harry felt pinpricks of heat stab into his face as he slammed himself down heavily into the seat next to Ron. Tonks’ currently stony dark eyes swept across the class room, now ignoring him completely.

Tonks hadn’t changed the classroom much. The walls were plain and the desks and chairs were identically arranged but Tonks had added a couple of extra free standing black boards to the front of the room. One of them had a list of class objectives on. The other was mostly blank apart from two words written in large pink letters:

Constant Vigilance.

“Now,” Tonks said to the class at large, “I’m not much one for speeches. And I shouldn’t have to give you one; all of you have chosen to be here. So you are presumably aware of my subject’s importance in the current state of affairs. What I will say this, I’m a pretty easy-going teacher.”

Harry stifled a snort, Tonks’ tone of voice and demeanour since the start of the lesson were entirely at odds with the claim of what had to be a pre-written speech.

“Skip lessons. Forget your homework, don’t practise, whatever. I’m not going to be taking away points or issuing detentions. There’d be no point, the only person you’re hurting in that case is yourself. What I will do, if you make a habit of it, or if you disrupt these classes is simply eject you from the course entirely. If you are in my classroom, you had better be ready to learn.”

There was a susurration around the room as the class shifted uneasily, wanting to look at their friends and neighbours to see their reaction to this pronouncement, while still being unable to take their eyes off Tonks. Tonks seemed unperturbed however and broke the tension with a crooked smile and a clap of her hands.

“Now observe that I have cleverly concealed my course aims by writing them in large white letters on this here blackboard.” She said, tapping her wand on one of the new freestanding boards, “I’m going to start off getting you up to speed on some general defensive spells that are applicable to many situations, after that I shall address specific threats and tactics used by the Death Eaters and how to counter them while mixing in advanced defence techniques and duelling theory.

“But enough chatter,” Tonks said and swept her wand, causing everyone to jump to their feet as the tables and chairs all suddenly moved themselves to the sides of the room and stacked themselves away, “Let’s see what you can do...”

What followed was one of the dullest lessons that Harry had had outside History of Magic. Tonks had them split up into pairs and drilled them of disarming, stunning, and shield charms and an array of minor offensive jinxes and curses. All spells that Harry had already learnt perfectly and had even taught most of them to his classmates in the DA the previous year. So the class became a long drawn out exercise in rote spell casting, while Tonks wandered around the class room observing and correcting people’s castings. Since Harry performed them all correctly, she had no reason to talk to him.

In fact, Harry realised, his wife had hardly even acknowledged his existence since he’d entered her classroom.

~0~

Somehow Harry managed to make it through the rest of the week, despite ever increasing amounts of homework and spell practise being piled upon him from all sides, not to mention every other Gryffindor he met in the halls asking him about Quidditch and Quidditch tryouts. This—coupled with his life or death struggles in Care of Magical Creatures and his need to continually dodge his friend’s enquires about Tonks—made him very glad when Friday night rolled around.

He even managed to get to sleep fairly quickly, sheer mental and physical exhaustion overwhelming the inexplicable insomnia that had overtaken him upon his return to Hogwarts.

So he was not at all pleased to be woken up at seven o’clock the next morning.

“Wake up!” said the voice, on the other side of the curtains.

“Iiuerrmmph,” said Harry and rolled over.

“Get up, Harry,” the voice was insistent, “we have work to do.”

Harry considered this and momentarily panicked. He was late for team practise! How embarrassing. Then he remembered that he couldn’t have Quidditch practise. As being the Captain and not having scheduled one; there wasn’t one. It stood to reason. He burrowed back into his pillows.

A blinding light pierced his eyes as his drapes were pulled open. Harry let out a cry and stuck out one hand to block the harsh sunbeam s, while the other scrabbled at his bedside table for his glasses. When he managed to pull them on and the white spots faded from his vision, he recognised it was Tonks standing over him, dressed in grey jogging clothes and sporting very short, very spiky, and above all, very pink hair again.

“Come on!” Tonks growled down at him, “Time for your training.”

“Wait.. err.. training? What?” Harry groaned, “Tonks... It’s seven in the morning.”

“That’s right,” Tonks said without smiling, “I let you have a lie in.”

Harry swore under his breath, rolled out of his bed and started searching for some clothes. Tonks, he noticed with a flush of embarrassment, did not bother to look away as he changed.

“Bring your wand, Harry,” Tonks said, strolling towards the door with the utmost confidence he would follow, “you’re going to need it.”

Harry was practically jogging when he caught up with her at the portal hole, annoyed that she felt the need to mention his wand since carrying it was second nature when in the wizarding world. Clearly, she didn’t respect his abilities or his common sense. As he dropped out of the portal down to the corridor, he remembered to be confused by Tonks’ presence inside Gryffindor Tower, as the only other grown up he had seen inside the tower was Professor McGonagall though he supposed the other teachers were probably allowed in as well. It didn’t really matter, since they were now out of the tower and striding down the corridors in the direction of the entrance hall.

“So,” Harry said, at length, “what are we doing?”

“I told you,” said Tonks, “Training.”

“What kind of training then?” Harry said, finding Tonks’ attitude rather difficult to deal with; especially given the lack of sleep and breakfast.

“What kind do you think?” Tonks said, making it clear she thought the answer was obvious. And maybe it was, but having started down this line of questioning, Harry saw no reason to stop.

“Well, I don’t really know Tonks, since you haven’t said, or actually talked to me at all since the start of your lesson on Tuesday.”

Tonks lead them out of the double doors and on to the grounds of Hogwarts. The cold, autumnal air hit Harry’s cheeks like a slap to the face serving both to thoroughly wake him up and annoy him further. A short distance from the castle, Tonks stopped in the middle of a lawn so they had a wide uninterrupted stretch of grass in every direction. Then she hefted her wand.

“I’m going to teaching you how to duel,” she said.

“Oh and you couldn’t do that in class?” Harry said sarcastically.

“Really, Harry,” Tonks said, “Do you think we can wait around for the rest of the class to reach your level?”

“My level? I didn’t realise you’d even noticed me. You didn’t say a word,” he growled.

“You performed every spell with ease, Harry, what was I supposed to say?” Tonks replied lightly.

“Maybe, just that.”

“I’m here to teach people, not to stroke your ego.” Tonks said, “Now let me see what you can do.”

By this point in the conversation, Harry did not need much more of a prompt to attack Tonks. Raising his wand with savage quickness, he shot a quick stunner at her chest. The red bolt crossed the distance between them at extreme speed, it was not however faster than Tonks’ reaction. Surprisingly, she didn’t even attempt to block it with a shield charm, instead as far as Harry could tell Tonks simply batted the stunner away with her wand as if playing tennis and sent it shooting up into the sky at an almost vertical angle. Flicking her wand back in line with him, she countered with a silvery white curse cast with such suddenness that Harry barely got his shield charm up before it hit him. Not that his shield did much good; the impact of Tonks’ counter was immense, shattering the shield with enough force left over to drive Harry stumbling back a couple of paces.

“Are we learning yet?” Tonks said, with a wink.

“What was that?” Harry scowled; not amused at being handled so easily.

“Shield charms can only block low level jinxes and curses,” Tonks said, slipping easily into her teaching tones, “Aurors and Death Eaters have much more powerful weapons at their disposal. Shield charms try to counter force with force directly, to repel incoming attacks. The technique I was using instead redirects the incoming energies to deflect them away from you. It’s a tricky technique but once mastered, leads to a much more efficient defence.”

“So...” Harry contemplated, his interest duelling with his bad mood, “you can show me how to do that?”

“Of course,” Tonks grinned, “That’s why I’m here, Harry.”

And that was when their real work began.

~0~

By the time they were done for the morning it was practically lunch time. They returned to the castle at a much less brisk pace but even as they approached the front doors, Tonks noticed Harry’s demeanour darken and his posture stiffen up. For a few short hours, he’d loosened up; relations had thawed between them. Tonks didn’t really like that they had connected the way they had at Privet Drive; Harry still held himself back emotionally, but he had been eager to learn what she knew about duelling, so they slipped quite easily into the roles of student and teacher.

Now that they were not actively working on his duelling technique, however, it was clear things were not going to stay casual between them. It had been a narrow thing that he’d relaxed at all; Harry had seemed quite hostile until she’d actually proven that she could handle him in a fight and even then it could easily have gone the other way, if defeat had merely heightened his temper, they would not have got anywhere, even if they practised till midnight.

As they entered the Great Hall, the tables were already groaning under the weight of food prepared by the house elves. Breakfast was still out, given the average student’s tendency to sleep in on weekends. The food would remain on the tables until the elves switched it out for lunch. The exaggerated rumble of Tonks’ tummy reminded her of just how long it had been since the coffee she’d had in her room before going to see Harry.

They made a beeline to the Gryffindor Table. Harry glanced at her, surprised as she sat down next to him. One eyebrow arched sardonically.

“It’s the weekend,” Tonks explained, “I’m off-duty, I can eat where I want,” she winked at him, “and this was a lot closer than the staff table.”

Harry just turned back to the table and started helping himself to food without making a comment. Tonks sighed to herself; this was getting to be a problem. There had to be some way to loosen the boy up, this moodiness was becoming intolerable.

~0~

When Harry retrieved his Firebolt and made his way to the Quidditch pitch that afternoon, he still felt battered and bruised from his long training with Tonks in the morning. His muscles ached with tension and burned with the beginnings of cramps. Even with the energy of his lunch, Harry’s early start weighed him down.

The end result of all this was that he was unwilling to suffer fools gladly This was unfortunate because as he arrived for the tryouts for the House team, he was confronted with what seemed to be the entire house armed with broomsticks. And Just about all of them seemed to be fools in Harry’s opinion. Harry’s posture tensed as they all clamoured for attention, swarming towards him until he was caught in a mob of the hopefuls. Sudden claustrophobia struck Harry and he had to fight the urge to continue practising some of the hexes Tonks had just been teaching him on the hapless lot.

Only by shouting himself hoarse did he manage to restore some kind of order to the proceedings. From there it was not hard to winnow down the candidates; half of them were either broomless or not Gryffindors. Several more failed to fly a few simple circuits of the pitch and were immediately yelled at some more before being sent on their way.

Harry rubbed at an aching shoulder as Quaffles flew in every direction and he watched most of his potential Chasers crash into each other. Eventually, he had his three Chasers, including Katie Bell and Ginny Weasley both returning from the previous year’s team.

It took a further two hours, three concussions and a pair of cracked ribs to find his two new Beaters. By then he was unable to stop himself from fidgeting; his left thumb was subconsciously rubbing against his ring finger and the golden band there. He already disliked being the Captain; there were far too many decisions and far too little real flying getting done.

The final tryouts were for the Keepers, which was another source of worry for Harry. With Ron having been the keeper last year, Harry had been tempted to just grandfather him into the new team but since Katie had insisted she try out for Chaser, Harry could hardly see how he could fail to do the same to Ron without being called out for favouritism.

Fortunately, Ron’s big victory in the last match of the previous Tournament, which had sealed Gryffindor’s triumph, seemed to have calmed his nerves somewhat. He looked slightly pale and grim but nevertheless determinate as he waited for his trial. Even as Ron waited Harry saw Hermione come up and whisper something in his ear, before giving him a kiss on his cheek and retreating to the stands to cheer him on. If nothing else, this brought quite a bit of colour back to Ron’s face along with a nervous smile.

In the end it was a close run thing. Both Ron and a hulking brute of a seventh year both managed to save all five trial penalties and Harry was force to sorted to having a shoot-out where Ron and McLaggen were sent to opposite ends of the pitch while the Chaser took turns trying to put balls past them. The tension ratcheted up in Harry’s stomach as both boys managed to save the first few shots against their hoops.

Then Ginny put the Quaffle through Ron’s right hoop.

Harry didn’t think he breathed for the next thirty seconds as Katie soared down the other end of the pitch for her penalty on MacLaggen. She swerved one way and McLaggen assuming the first move from a pro like Katie had to be a fake, didn’t match it until just too late. His finger tips just manage to hit the Quaffle as it zoomed in to his left goal.

An explosive breath of relief burst from Harry’s lungs. He could tell Ron’s confidence was shaken by the miss; his save of the next penalty looked almost accidental as he swerved the wrong way. The back-end of his broom made contact with the ball, deflecting it just it enough it hit the hoop and bounce off instead of going through.

Relief was followed by sudden elation as Ginny redeemed herself by putting the next one straight past McLaggen. Ending the contest there and then and sealing the Keeper position for Ron. Harry cheered and applauded heavily along with the audience in the stands. McLaggen zoomed up to Harry and doing his best (terrible) attempt to loom in mid-air attempted to dispute the result but the fact his voice could barely be heard over the song ‘Weasley Is Our King’ being belted from the stands blunted his argument and he belatedly tried to make an escape with his dignity intact.

Harry hovered in mid air with his new team mates surrounding him, he had originally planned to start their training straight away, but his neck and back were aching. On the other hand, playing Auror all morning had not figured into thinking.

“Alright, everybody,” Harry said to the assembled players, “Congratulations on making the team. I expect nothing more than excellence from you all, and I am confident I shall receive nothing less. First training will be Monday evening. Any questions? No? Good. Thanks for coming.”

~0~

Still, even as his team cheerfully dispersed, Harry could not resist doing some actual flying. It had been so long since he’d really been able to put the Firebolt through the paces, even at the Weasley’s the flying area had been necessarily small and low, so that the Muggles didn’t see them at it and he’d only one proper match the previous year before Umbridge had banned him from the sport.

Harry zoomed across the pitch taking it full speed, the wind blasting in to his face was quite cathartic; as if it were scouring all the stress and worry right off him. He weaved around the three goalposts in a complex spiralling pattern and headed back the way he came barely a meter above the pitch. He was half way across when his ears caught the faint sound of applause and his surprised eyes caught a brief flash of bubbleglum pink hair at the edge of the pitch. His mood plummeted faster than he’d been able to dive the Firebolt.

The blasted woman just wouldn’t leave him alone.

Harry wheeled his broom around and came in to land next to Tonks to give her a piece of his mind. It didn’t go as planned, he was either more tired than he thought, or his aching arms tensed at precisely the wrong moment sending him smacking in to the ground in a much harder landing than intended. His leg collapsed under him and he ended up in an ungainly heap at Tonks’ feet.

There was a brief pause and then;

“Wotcher, Harry,” Tonks said cheerfully and offered him her hand.

Harry glared at her, ignored her hand and pulled himself to his feet. Or tried to, at least. Tonks caught him as he made a good attempt at ending up face first in the mud again. Pain shot up through his ankle when he put his weight on it. She wrapped her arm about his back and under his arm to support him.

“Real grace you’ve got there,” she said smiling.

“This is all your fault,” Harry shot back at her.

“Oh, I know, I know, dear,” Tonks replied indulgently, making Harry realise how much like Dudley he sounded right now, “Come on, let’s get you sorted out.”

Tonks carried Harry’s Firebolt in one hand and still supporting Harry with the other started off towards the castle. Harry kept gritting his teeth and trying to walk under his own power, which only lead to pathetic whimpering noises and having to lean more onto Tonks, who seemed to easily manage his weight. His efforts only redoubled as they entered the entrance hall and there was an increasing chance of him being seen hobbling about. Thick rugs and carpets covered the stone floor.

“This isn’t the quickest way to the hospital wing,” Harry said, as Tonks led him down a corridor.

“Quite right,” Tonks said, an edge of amusement to her voice, “luckily, we’re not going to the hospital wing.”

Harry’s comment proved well timed, as just that second Tonks brought them to a halt next to an undistinguished length of wall bordered by a pair of candelabra. Tonks took out her wand and tapped the closest candlestick with it. There was a sudden motion as a section of wall and floor suddenly rotated. As it was done by means of magic the motion lacked the sound of stone grinding on stone, and when the motion stopped Harry suddenly found himself within a comfortable looking room. Book cases and drapes lined the walls. It was decorated with the same kind of comfortable arms chairs and sofas as the Gryffindor common room. There was a large fireplace on the far wall, and to the left, the room had a sweeping dais creating a higher section with two doors in that Harry could only assume lead to the bedroom and the bathroom.

“Well,” Tonks said, “Welcome to my rooms,”

“You get rooms?” Harry asked.

“I know!” Tonks said, smiling once more, “It surprised me, too. Now sit down, Harry, and I’ll check out your leg,”

Harry discarded his robes while Tonks shed the jacket of her track suit, leaving her in just a plain tank top. Then Harry allowed himself to be ushered across the room and seated on one end of the settee; Tonks hoisted his injured leg on to a foot stool.

Carefully, she pushed Harry’s trouser leg up to his knee, wondering just how badly her husband could have hurt himself with that reckless landing. She probed his leg with practised fingers, tracing the length of it down to his ankle. Considering the joint carefully, she guided Harry’s foot through a complete rotation, to which the joint caused no major resistance nor seemed to cause Harry any pain.

“Well,” she said after a brief pause, “I don’t you think you’ve sprained it or done any real damage. It’s just bruised.”

“Yeah,” said Harry, mulishly, “Just like the rest of me after this morning,”

Tonks resisted the urge to roll her eyes. The morning’s training had been much less strenuous than even the most basic classes of Auror training. Considering he had ambitions in that direction, Harry could do with toughening up in that regard. Still, Tonks had learned that immediately responding with the first, honest thought that popped into her head did not have the best track record with getting on Harry’s good side. The aches were nothing she couldn’t get rid of with a good massage, after all and he might even be... grateful.

“Well if that’s your problem, I can help you out,” Tonks said, “Just take your shirt off and lie down on your front,”

Harry just looked at her suspiciously.

“Harry,” Tonks said, frustration boiling over into her, “for once, will you just let me help you? Please?” She really needed to get back in Harry’s good books, otherwise she might just go mental from the sheer snarkiness.

Harry peeled off his top and lay face-down on the sofa, his head resting on its side on a pillow. Tonks reached for his shoulders but as her hands approached the back of his neck, Harry tensed as if trying to flinch away. Tonks frowned and dropped one hand to lay flat on his shoulder blade, away from his neck.

“Easy, Harry,” Tonks murmured, “Easy, everything’s all alright.”

Slowly, Tonks returned her hands to his shoulders and this time Harry managed not to flinch. He didn’t quite know where the motion had come from; it had been quite involuntary on his part. The way Tonks rubbed his shoulders was not rough but her grip had become firm and quite insistent as she worked the muscles. Harry realised that he had never been touched this way before, certainly not in such a prolonged, consistent way. As Tonks’ touch seemed to liquefy his muscles, Harry melted into the sofa, quite unable to exert any kind of control over himself. Harry gave a long groan, his breath becoming slow and even as Tonks’ attention spread to his upper back.

Hands slowly made their way down Harry’s back; he was unable to resist the touch of her fingertips as they sought out tension areas and dispersed them. Time seemed to slow to a near standstill, as Harry’s perception of the world narrowed until it consisted entirely of those marvellous hands on his body. He realised the sensations were slowly moving down, easing the aches and strains above his hips. Harry’s breathe caught in his throat once more. Ambivalence surged through him; the hands were now just above his arse, teasing the top curves of his buttocks. Any lower and the pretence of massage would be lost and Tonks would just be openly groping his bum. There was no question in Harry’s mind that it would feel fantastic, that it would be so easy to let go and just enjoy it and where it led but he also knew he’d never be able to separate the physical sensations from his emotions and he’d be right back where he started.

Tonks’ touch slowed and her hands came to a halt, pressed against the very bottom of his back and the top of his bottom. They rested there and the moment hung between them, stretching long while neither of them moved. Harry wondered if Tonks felt as conflicted as he did, as ever her mind was a closed book to him.

Then her hands left his body entirely. Harry mewled in sudden disappointment and shifted slightly on to his side, lifting his head to look behind him.

Tonks’ face was suddenly, instantly, mere inches away from his. Her eyes, in this instant, were palest blue, crystal clear with seeming infinite depths. They were both breathing heavily, it sounded like thunder in the quiet of the room. She leaned in; her skin was soft and warm as their foreheads rested on each other. He shifted slightly, nuzzling her so their foreheads and noses rubbed together. Her lips moved in, making to kiss Harry, but he flinched back—not enough to separate them yet enough to indicate his unwillingness.

“Tonks,” he breathed hoarsely, “Tonks, I shouldn’t,”

“Why?” she moaned, a note of longing creeping into her voice, “Why not?”

“You know how I feel,” he said, but his voice struck the same note, “I’ll... I’ll get confused again if we do this.”

He tried to break the captivating contact of her eyes, forcing his gaze downwards. It didn’t help. She was doing something to him, he thought. She had to be. It was some trick of the Metamorphmagus that made her so irresistible. That made her cleavage swell and heave with her breathe like that, that made her lips look so succulent. Harry was only human, after all; there was nothing he could do against such power.

The kiss was the softest meeting of their lips and it exploded sensation throughout his body like a star going supernova. No sooner had they broken contact than he was surging forward again, recapturing her mouth with his, stifling her moans under his mouth. His arms clung to her, wrapping around her body and pulling her tight, as he rolled back. They both ended up lying on the sofa, Harry on his back with Tonks pressed on top of him, her hand raking through his jet black hair as she kissed him with feverish intensity. Gripping his skull as her tongue pressed deeply into his mouth.

Harry’s hands were just as busy; his left had disappeared under Tonks’ waist line to squeeze her bum while his right was tracing the line of her spine up her back, dragging the hemline of her tank top with it until it encountered the strap of her bra. They scrabbled at her back, Harry trying to undo the clasp one-handed and failing. With their mouths so tightly interlocked Harry couldn’t tell who had emitted the groan of frustration. Tonks disengaged from their embrace to sit up, her weight settling on his already straining crotch, so she could reach behind her and undo the clasp. She threw off her tank top and bra in one go so that she was left topless; breasts standing out from her chest with proud firmness.

The sight inflamed Harry’s desire, he didn’t wait for Tonks to kiss him again, and instead he took charge, rolling over so he could be in top. The fact that this propelled them right over the edge of the sofa and on to the floor was neither here nor there. The carpet beneath them was of sufficient depth and softness that they barely noticed.

Now Harry was on top, with Tonks topless and writhing underneath him as he kissed her, his tongue plunging in and out of her pliant mouth. He broke off and moved downwards, his left hand gripped at her right breast, squeezing the firm globe, but her other breast was completely unattended and the erect pink nipple stood out enticingly. Harry’s mouth dropped and enveloped as much of the succulent tit as possible. The resultant moan was incoherent but very encouraging. As was the way her right hand seized the back of his head in vice-like grip.

Tonks’ breathing which had remained level through hours of training now panted and raced out of control. Her head slumped down on the carpet and her eyes had gone glassy and unfocused with bliss. Especially since Harry’s right hand had once again disappeared under her waist line and into her damp knickers. Her free hand followed his down and tore effectively at her trousers trying to be rid of them. Harry joined in the effort, getting a good grip around her knickers and trousers to push them down to her knees. As his fingers slid back to between her legs to her bits, he sought to spread her folds, so thoroughly wet that Harry’s nose could scent the tang of her arousal. The smell crashed into the forefront of his brain and made him remember that there was something he’d been meaning to try.

His mouth leaving Tonks’ tits, he started showering kisses across her belly, moving downward. His hands busied themselves in getting her clothes entirely off her legs and casting them across the room. Getting a firm grip on her legs Harry manoeuvred between them so they draped over his shoulders.

Her pussy was laid out before him, her; plump and spread like the petals of a flower in summer. Tonks had retained enough self-awareness to look down at him,

“Harry,” she said, “Harry, what are...”

But the rest of her words were lost as a long ‘ooooh’ escaped her mouth while Harry ran his tongue over her cunt. He pressed his face into her, his tongue hardened and plunging as deeply as possibly into the pinkness. Tonks’ lower body surged in response and Harry had to grab at her hips to stop her slamming into his face. Altering his technique, he softened his tongue to lap at her folds, making swift circular motions and exploring her depths. Tonks’ legs tensed then one folded until her foot was pressed flat against Harry’s back, all while his tongue still lashed at her bits.

The taste that had before smelt so intriguing was now plentiful, to the extent that Harry almost felt overwhelmed as it seared his nostrils and crept down the back his throat. Already having had a good idea of what might be sensitive in Tonks’ nethers, Harry tried to keep close to those spots. Close, but hopefully not quite there.

Tonks’ moans had died off, possibly for lack of air, and slowed to desperate low pants.

“Oh,” She murmured, “oh! Don’t! Don’t, oh! Stop, Harry, don’t oh!”

Harry didn’t stop, though his jaw and tongue were starting to ache. Yet, he knew Tonks hadn’t climaxed, so he kept at it, thrusting and driving the hardened point of his tongue near sensitive points as Tonks panted and shivered in unfulfilled need.

“Stop it, Harry,” she groaned hoarsely, in a rare moment of coherence, “Stop teasing,”

Mouth still lodged in her cunt, Harry smiled.

“Fuckin’ hell, Harry, please fuck me now,” Tonks pleaded.

Harry sat up, hands gripping her lower legs, his grin spreading across his face reflexively.

“See, Tonks,” Harry said, “That’s all I wanted to hear,”

He quickly shoved his trousers and pants half way down his thighs so his rigid shaft was, at long last, exposed and then he crawled forward, her legs still in his hands until his hard-on poked at her pussy and her ankles were hooked over his shoulders.

His oral attention had left Tonks so wet it barely took any effort at all to slip the tip if his cock inside her. He settled his weight down on top of her. With her legs still over his shoulders this left her pressed flat into the carpet, almost folded in half beneath him. Their gazes locked together.

Harry had meant to continue teasing her, but he could barely keep his first thrust long and slow as he filled Tonks up, there was no way he could he could keep it up. He hugged at her legs as his thrust into her soaked body, the position allowing him to sink deeper into her than ever before. The sensation of wet heat so utterly surrounding him broke what little self control he had left. Before he knew it, he was slamming into her as hard and as fast as he could.

From the joyous pitch of her wailing, Harry sensed Tonks had no objection.

Both of their bodies were quickly soaked with passion and sweat while the room was filled the slap of flesh on flesh. To either side of his head, Tonks feet curled and relaxed in time with his wild thrusting.

Harry didn’t really know when Tonks came but he felt when the clamp of her inner muscles became harder than then tension brewing behind his balls, so much so that he hammered into her, giving it his all. He gave himself entirely to her, spilling out of himself in great mind-emptying spurts. Utter bliss enshrouded his being.

He was vaguely aware of her arms around him gently guiding him off her and down to the soft rug.

~0~

Tonks lay on her side, her head still abuzz from a quite glorious orgasm. For the moment, she felt quite satiated but more than a little thirsty. Though she felt that once she’d gone and had a nice long glass of cool water, she’d be quite happy to wake Harry up for another round. Though it might be kinder to let the chap sleep. She’d not been blind to the steadily darkening circles under Harry’s eyes during the week. Maybe seven a clock had been a bit early. After three years of Auror Training, Tonks had almost forgotten what hours normal people kept.

Still, given the look of complete adoration on Harry’s face, it seemed like her plan had succeeded. Perhaps too well, given Harry’s comments beforehand, but there was certainly no denying that she was back in his good graces.

Though she hoped he didn’t start to use the L word again. There were just some feelings she couldn’t honestly return.

Treacherously, her mind presented images of her on top of Harry, making out with him with wild enthusiasm and then beneath him writhing in complete ecstasy. She squashed it, ruthlessly. There were clearly no feelings here at all.

With an almighty effort, Tonks pulled herself into a sitting position to look for her wand. Harry was not a large man, but she was still going to need it to get him into bed without disturbing him.

Even as she did so, however, Tonks wondered how much more complicated things could get.

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Desperate Times, Desperate Measures