Blame It On the Pumpkin (it's a slutty gourd) by Luvscharlie
Warnings: desk sex, drug/pumpkin induced sex, dirty talk, rough sex, half-clothed sex, slutty pumpkin
A/N: Originally written for the 2010 samhain_smut fest on Live Journal. It is set during The Goblet of Fire.
Thankfully, it was October, and though things were still hectic at the Ministry, what with the upcoming first task of the Triwizard Tournament to be held at Hogwarts on 24 November, at least all the work from the Quidditch World Cup, and more importantly, its rather embarrassing aftermath, had pretty much come to a close. Unfortunately, that did not seem to lessen Percy's workload. Mr. Crouch was gone from the office more and more of late, and it was becoming harder and harder to make excuses for his absence. But Percy was loyal and he did his best. He had great respect for Mr. Crouch, and though he couldn't much abide being lackadaisical in one's tasks, well, Mr. Crouch must have a good reason for being away. He simply must. It wasn't like him to shirk his responsibilities.
Percy was just sitting down behind Mr. Crouch's desk to answer an interoffice memorandum when she bounced through the door. And he meant "bounced" in the quite literal sense. Nymphadora Tonks was in a full type of body lock and she was hopping up and down, up and down, and up and down some more. Percy found his head bobbing in time with her bounces.
"Care to help a girl out here?" she said when he made no move towards her.
"Well, whatever is wrong with you?" Percy asked, still unable to control the bobbing of his head. There was simply something magnetic about watching her bright green hair bounce up and down. It seemed she was getting faster, and the hair had this kind of fascinating green glow that made spots dance before his eyes.
"Gee, whatever could be wrong? I dunno. Maybe that I look like a bouncing bunny."
"Well, I've never seen a bunny with green hair and—of course, rabbits don't have hair. They have fur, and they seem to come in standard colours and—"
"I swear, when I stop bouncing, I'm going to hex you into next Monday."
"First of all, the Ministry does not condone time travel, if I even thought that it was possible for you to send me to another day in the week, which for the record, I do not. That's sad, really. I mean, if I could control the days in such a manner, my workload would be much more manageable. Secondly, that's really not the demeanour one should use if they are in need of assistance. It does nothing to make me want to help you. Don't they teach people skills at the Auror Training Academy? I would think that in such things as negotiations it would be a much valued tool in your line of work."
"I'm going to people your skills when I get out of this mess. MAKE. IT. STOP."
"Under threat of violence? Whatever kind of motivation is that? I make it stop and you, as you so eloquently put it, 'people my skills', which by the way makes no sense at all, but I assume it is some unique way of saying you will hex me. I'll pass, thank you very much. Could you kindly bounce into someone else's office now? I have work to do and you're quite distracting." Percy sat back down behind Mr. Crouch's desk and picked up a quill, dipped it into the inkwell and went back to answering the memorandum.
Tonks, using what sounded like a desperate voice, said, "How about I say pretty please and promise not to hex you?"
"That's a much improved way to ask for assistance, Ms. Tonks. But you have to swear on Merlin that you won't hex me, and if you lie, stick a needle in your eye."
"What the hell? What does that even mean?"
"I'm not sure, but a Muggleborn in my year at Hogwarts used to say it if he wanted someone to promise to tell the truth, and I always found it catchy. Don't you?"
"Egads, you're as obnoxious as Bill and Charlie combined."
"First of all, I lived with Bill and Charlie, and that's not remotely possible. And, again with the poor etiquette. You can catch more—more—oh what was it again? Something about horseflies and honey. Oh rats, I really liked that one too. Anyway, back to the needle in the eye thing, do you agree?"
"Yes. Whatever. Just get me down, you prat."
Percy flicked his wand, and Tonks crumpled to the ground.
"Again, name calling is not—"
Tonks interrupted, "Yes, yes, I know. Bad manners, poor etiquette, needles in eyes—which by the way makes no sense at all—and horseflies and all that rubbish. Could you just point me towards Crouch, so I can get on with this and go find Mary Ellen Casterson and hex her into next Monday? Crazy bitch thinks I was flirting with her boyfriend so she turned me into a fucking rabbit—well, of sorts."
"Mary Ellen is a lovely young woman, with good manners and who has yet to threaten to send me to another day. So whatever it was that made her use the Be-boppity Bouncing Bunny Charm on you, I feel quite confident that you were more than a little deserving."
"Hmph," Tonks snorted. "Where's Crouch? I need to talk to him."
"You can leave your message here with me, and I'll make sure Mr. Crouch gets it. He's stepped away from the office at the moment and—"
"I've heard he's been away a lot lately." Tonks sidled up to Mr. Crouch's lovely desk and sat down on the corner, swinging her foot back and forth obnoxiously.
It was disturbing to discover that those sorts of rumours were floating around the Ministry, despite all of his hard work. Percy was quick to cover for his boss. "He'll be back shortly. If you'll just—"
"I'll wait," Tonks interrupted.
"There's no need for that. I am perfectly capable of giving a message to my supervisor." Percy put on his haughtiest demeanour in hopes of covering up the fact that she was rattling him.
"Nope." She popped the gum she was chewing. "Shacklebolt said this message is for Mr. Crouch, and you, Weasley, are not Mr. Crouch. Though you're almost as stiff a shirt as he is."
Oh, she was obnoxious, this one. Even worse, he was going to have to work hard to get her to give him this message, and it wasn't as if he didn't already have enough to do this morning. Thus, he was going to have to be clever. "If you'll give me the message, you might just be able to catch Mary Ellen Casterson, since she just walked by my door. Stuck her tongue out at you too, as she walked by, not that I'm one to cause trouble or anything, but…"
Tonks jumped down from her perch. "She did not! Oh, that bitch! Tell Crouch the Minister has demanded that the Ministry be decorated for Halloween and he's in charge of this floor. No decorating during normal office hours. It has to be done after everyone's gone home. I'll be back later; I have to go and kill someone."
Tonks rushed out the door, then popped her head back in. "Oh yeah, one more thing. It has to be completed tonight."
"What? Tonight?" Percy spluttered. "Halloween's not for three more days."
"Yeah, well apparently the best decorated floor gets some kind of prize or award or some such nonsense. Glad I'm not stuck on that duty." Tonks turned away from the door and her voice got considerably louder as she shouted down the hallway. "Look out, Mary Ellen, you bloody bitch!"
What to do? What to do? Esteem for the entire floor was certainly coveted, and it would make Mr. Crouch so proud if they were to be recognised by the Ministry. Percy was already scribbling a parchment to owl to Mr. Crouch, post haste.
Meanwhile, back at Hogwarts…
"That's a fine crop of pumpkins you have this year, Hagrid," said Dumbledore, as he and the groundskeeper stood out in the garden behind Hagrid's hut.
"They're beauties, ain't they?"
"Absolutely." Dumbledore sighed and shook his head, before saying, "But with Halloween coming and a school full of randy boys, I wager they won't stay that way."
"I don't know who started that nasty rumour that if you heat up a pumpkin with your wand and stick your you-know-what inside it, it would feel like a lady's you-know-where, but I'd like to pound 'em, you know? Every year now, I'm stuck out here guarding my babies rather than up at the feast with everyone else, and this year Olympe is here—I mean, not that it matters none, but—anyway—if I don't stand guard, when I come back all my pumpkins will have holes in them—and well, it makes me sick to think what else is inside them." Hagrid shuddered. "I suspect those twins started this. Sounds like something they'd do."
Dumbledore looked up at a blushing Hagrid and couldn't stop himself from chuckling at the sight. "I've heard that particular rumour. Right family, wrong boys, I'd say."
"Well not this year," Hagird proclaimed, giving Dumbledore a sly wink as he retrieved his beloved, faded pink umbrella. This year, I've taken precautions against it. There'll be no cutting holes in my babies this year, not without dire consequences."
"Nothing that will hurt the students, I trust."
"'Course not. You know me better than that, Headmaster."
"Indeed. I do." Dumbledore paused. "Knowing you as I do, Hagrid, I trust you won't be insulted when I ask you if you're certain that whatever spell you've put upon your garden—well, that you performed it correctly."
"I did, sir! Of course I did… I think." Those last two words were little more than a whisper, but Dumbledore chuckled and patted Hagrid on the back.
"We shall see, my friend. We shall see."
Two hours had passed, and Percy had spent every second of them pacing around the office, and he still hadn't heard from Mr. Crouch. He had resolved himself to the fact that if this floor of the Ministry was going to be decorated, he would have to be the one to do it, with or without his supervisor's approval. If it wasn't done, Mr. Crouch's secret absence was sure to be found out.
Percy began to jot down a list of the things he needed like crepe paper and perhaps some balloons. "Oh, and pumpkins for carving jack-o-lanterns." You know, he thought, this floor could have a jack-o-lantern so glorious that it would be talked about for years to come. After all, when Percy Weasley did a project, he certainly did it full tilt.
And luckily for Mr. Crouch, Percy knew just the place to get the biggest, most spectacular, perfect-in-every-aspect pumpkin in all of Europe, and he could certainly get an audience with the Headmaster under the pretence of needing some forms signed for the upcoming tournament. And as he was leaving the castle, just one little detour on the grounds of Hogwarts and… "He won't miss just one. I'll just shrink it down and put it in my pocket until I can restore it to its rightful size."
The hour was already growing late, and time was wasting. Percy had seriously underestimated Hagrid's dogged guarding of his pumpkin patch. It had taken him a good two hours to distract the large man in order to get the pumpkin he wanted and escape with it. And strangely enough, there had been some crazy bit of magic sticking it firmly to the ground that had taken Percy a bit to figure out how to break. Luckily, he'd got the crepe paper and balloons up in the Ministry before he left, as well as a few live bats hovering around the third floor's ceilings, which in hindsight, might have been better left until later. They were quite the nuisance. One seemed to be in love with his glasses because every time Percy passed it in the hallway it swooped down and attempted to carry them off.
Percy had just restored the pumpkin to its grand state and its abnormally large size, and was laying out his carving knives when a voice from behind him said, "Wotcher, Weasley?"
A large knife skittered across the floor and Percy jumped. "Are you trying to give me heart failure?" Percy threw his arms out trying to block the pumpkin from her view, though it was a good deal too large for his skinny frame to do much good by standing in front of it. Luckily, Tonks really wasn't paying what he was doing any mind. Her eyes were trained on a large orange balloon in the hallway and a bat that kept flying into it, backing up to shake off his disorientation and then flying into it again. Bats are not the most intelligent of creatures.
"Nope, didn't plan on giving anyone a fright, though it's rather fun to watch you jump like that. Be careful with those knives, they looked sharp," she said, nonchalantly. "Just finished my own decorating and—"
"I thought you said you didn't have decorating duty!"
"I didn't. But then there was this unfortunate incident with Mary Ellen Casterson and this engorged bug and like I was supposed to know that it was venomous and would make her leg swell up like that. If you ask me, not that anyone did, Kingsley blew this whole thing out of proportion. Anyway, I got decorating duty… for now… with more punishment to come later. And maybe an inquisition, but that's not determined for sure yet."
It was then that Tonks's eyes widened as she spotted the stolen gourd. "You stole Hagrid's pumpkin!" she accused.
"I di—did not." Percy chose to act innocent. Deny, deny, deny. That was Percy's story and he was sticking to it.
"Nobody else grows pumpkins to look like that. You stole that from Hagrid's pumpkin patch. And it's cheating! Anyone will win this contest with one of Hagrid's perfect pumpkins."
It was hard to argue with that logic, as anybody who had ever gone to Hogwarts knew about the beauty of Hagrid's pumpkin patch. "Hagrid—well, he gave me this pumpkin. Yeah, that's what happened. That's completely what happened," Percy said with a nod of his head for emphasis.
Tonks got right up in his face so that their foreheads were almost touching, her eyeballs darting back and forth as she surveyed him. "You're lying. You can't even look me in the eye."
"I am not lying. You're invading my personal space and it's making me nervous. That's all."
"Okay then, why don't we just ask Hagrid?"
"Sure," Percy said smugly. An owl would never reach Hogwarts in time. The judging of decorations was to take place the following morning. But he nearly had a heart attack when Tonks dropped a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace in Mr. Crouch's office, and then stuck her head into the flames. Balls! He'd forgotten she could do that. All of this overtime was starting to cause his mind to feel muddled. So muddled, that he hadn't remembered that Floo-calling existed. He needed sleep and he needed it soon. But, first, he needed to haul one pain-in-the-arse-green-haired Auror from the hearth. Percy ran forward and grabbed Tonks around the waist and pulled her forcibly from the fireplace. "Stop that!" he shouted.
"What?" she asked innocently. "I was just asking my mother what she made for dinner. What do you have against my mum's stew?"
Percy gasped at her deception. "You lied!" He pointed his finger at Tonks who was smiling smugly.
"You lied first!" Tonks fired back.
Percy sat down on the floor beside his gigantic stolen pumpkin. "I had to lie. I just—I just wanted to make a good impression on the Ministry for Mr. Crouch. And he's not here and—" The words were out and he couldn't bring them back no matter how much he wanted to. He'd done such a good job of keeping the secret, and now it was out—and worse yet, he'd leaked his secret to one of the biggest blabbermouths in the Ministry. Might as well have cast a Sonorus and announced it himself.
"So the rumours about old Crouch are true then. Can't be easy having to cover for him. You've done a bang up job keeping the office going, Weasley."
Percy lifted his eyes to hers. "Wait. Are you actually being nice to me?"
"Don't get used to it," she snorted. "I still think you're an obnoxious git, but I can't imagine it's been much fun making excuses for Crouch like you have. Kind of admirable even, not that I'll admit having said that if it were to get out. So keep your trap shut. Now, where do we start on this pumpkin?"
"What do you mean 'we'?" Percy asked with incredulity. "Are you actually offering to—what? Help me?"
"Don't let it go to your head. It's not like I care if my floor wins. I threw up a few balloons, toilet papered Mary Ellen's desk and called it a night. I somehow doubt that puts us in contention for a prize, but really, Mary Ellen's desk is a work of art. I don't have any big plans for the rest of the evening. I mean Mum's stew really is rubbish, so I might as well pitch in, since you'd probably just fuck it all up, and that'd be a shame. It really is a nice looking pumpkin."
"So, this help is all for the pumpkin?"
"Oi, it is a nice pumpkin. I'd hate to see you mutilate it." Tonks walked around the pumpkin, so large that it came up to her thigh, and found what she thought was the perfect spot. "Here, Weasley," she said. "Start right here."
"I don't like that spot," Percy replied.
"What do you mean, you don't like this spot? This is the most perfect spot for a face on all the pumpkin."
"I think this side is better. Your side is lumpy."
"It's a pumpkin, you nitwit!" Tonks exclaimed. "It's supposed to be lumpy."
"Heads are lumpy," Percy said, "not faces."
"Well someone hasn't looked in the mirror lately," Tonks said under her breath. "Fine, it's your pumpkin. You start drawing on the face and I'll clean out the inside."
Percy got a quill from his own desk and began to trace triangular eyes, but the quill wasn't being cooperative and no amount of Sticking Charms would make the ink hold. He was just deciding that he would have to trace on the face by dipping his fingers in the ink, which he found rather icky, but he couldn't think of a way around it.
Tonks seemed to note his inner debate. "You know, you could just cut into it without writing on it first. It's not as if eyes, nose and mouth require all that much in the way of planning."
Percy clicked his tongue. "Do you even hear yourself? That makes no sense at—AARGH"
A large knife cut into the top of the pumpkin and nearly removing a few of Percy's digits in the process. "What in Merlin's name are you doing?" He waved his hands away as the largest knife in the collection began to work a circle around the top of the pumpkin, as Tonks smiled at her work.
"Somebody's gotta clean this baby out, and since you don't even want to put your fingers in the ink, I reckon you're not gonna want to touch pumpkin guts." She wiped her brow with the back of her forearm. "Is it getting hot in here?"
"I do not believe the temperature has altered in this office."
"You sure about that? Cause I'm starting to feel a little—whew." Tonks waved her hand in front of her face in attempt at cooling off, then said, "You been working out, Weasley? I never noticed those little muscle bumps on your skinny arms before just now."
Percy dipped his fingers in the ink and did his best to ignore her commentary as he drew some triangle eyes onto the pumpkin.
"Triangles," Tonks tutted. "Could you be any more boring?" Her breathing was coming in short, laboured puffs when she asked, "Are your eyes blue? Hard to tell behind those glasses, but I always did have a thing for blue eyes. And yours, they're a right nice shade."
Percy was puzzled. He said the only thing that seemed even remotely appropriate. "Erm, thanks." He felt the need to follow that up… for clarification purposes. "For the compliment, you know, about my eyes. Not the comments about my perfectly fine—classic even—triangles. A perfectly legitimate choice for the shape of eyes for any jack-o-lantern." He dipped his finger into the ink again and snarled his nose-What a mess this was going to be! It probably wouldn't wash off and he wasn't all that spectacular at cleansing charms. Percy tried not to think about it as he went to work drawing his perfectly triangular, absolutely proportionate, pumpkin nose.
Tonks's knife was working at finishing cutting out the top of the pumpkin and she wasn't being remotely considerate in trying not to mess up his outlines—or not cut off his fingers. Twice he had to move them to keep from being sliced. He suspected that if she drew his attention away from the task at hand, and his pumpkin mouth with awry, she'd like nothing better. Heck, she'd probably think its lack of proportionality added character or something stupid like that.
"There, got it!" she said, yanking off the top by the pumpkin's stem and being forced to use both hands because it was so large. "I got no idea what kind of candle we're going to find big enough to light this thing up," she said offhand. "And I swear it really is getting hot in here. I'm even breaking out in a sweat."
"Some of us paid attention in class and can use a spell to increase a candle's luminosity," Percy said, and was just about to add a further insult about how she might not sweat so much if she talked less and worked more when he was cut off by pumpkin guts hitting him directly in the face, and then sliding down and leaving a slimy trail and a stray white seed stuck to his glasses.
"Looks good on you," Tonks said approvingly. "Almost matches your hair and—" Pumpkin innards with traces of ink stain landed in her bright green hair. She swallowed hard and pulled pumpkin from her hair, put her hand on her hip and looked over at a trying-not-to-smile Percy. "I know you did not just throw pumpkin goo at me!"
"Who me? I wouldn't know. Do you have pumpkin in your hair? I can't see if there's anything in your hair at all, what with this orange slime running down my glasses." Percy reached for a small knife, the best for precision and sliced into his triangle outline of a left eye. It was then that he felt something. He thought perhaps it really wasn't her imagination and it was rather warm in the office.
He took his handkerchief from his pocket and began to clean his glasses when more pumpkin innards, a rather large glob hit him in the chest, followed quickly by another that landed in his lap… and these were his best trousers. Did she not know how hard pumpkin stain was to get out of clothing? Of course not, just get a look at those ridiculous clothes she wore. She clearly had no appreciation for fine apparel. Percy couldn't believe that Auror Shacklebolt would even allow someone representing his department to dress so shabbily. A Weird Sisters t-shirt that was faded to somewhere between pink and red, and it was missing the 'r' in Weird and the 'st' in Sisters. But it did cling nicely to those perky breasts of hers. What? Where did that come from? And that skirt. That skirt was definitely not regulation length. Why, if he looked hard enough and tilted his head just so, he could probably even see a bit of her knickers.
Percy looked harder.
Then he shook his head. He had no idea what had come over him. For goodness sakes, the girl was wearing combat boots. Percy Weasley was not attracted to women in combat boots. Only… he wondered if she had sex while still wearing them. Dear Merlin, that would be a sight to behold. Nymphadora Tonks sitting on his desk (technically Mr. Crouch's, but no need for technicality at a moment like this) naked except for those boots with her legs spread as he stepped between them, her hand sliding down to touch herself… and…
Tonks's fingers snapped in front of his face. "Earth to Weasley. You there, Weasley?"
Percy jumped. "What? Yes, of course. Where else would I be? Certainly not thinking of you on that desk and…" Thank heavens she hadn't seemed to notice that last lapse in judgment and those words streaming from his lips before he could stop them. He was flustered at the images invading his brain, and beads of perspiration rose on his forehead as his pulse raced.
And then this annoying, gorgeous, totally fuckable girl—she sat down beside him. "I'm done cleaning out the pumpkin. Reckon I'll help you carve."
Percy quickly moved the knives out of her reach. "No. You'll mess it up."
"I will not!" She got up on her hands and knees to take back a knife from him, where he was holding them out of her reach, and she nearly climbed into his lap in order to retrieve them, which got him even more flustered. He spotted a white pumpkin seed and some orange matter stuck to her thigh and Percy's hand reacted without his brain's approval. He retrieved the seed, his knuckles brushing her creamy thigh, caressing the soft skin there. The knives clattered to the floor forgotten as Tonks gasped. She straddled his legs and grabbed hold of his shirt pulling him to her.
She grabbed his face, setting his glasses askew, her lips inches from his, then she reached for a small knife that had fallen near Percy's leg and closed his fingers around her own, and they cut into the pumpkin together. "Do you feel that?" she asked, her voice husky with need.
"I feel—I feel something," Percy agreed, a new wave of lust washing over him.
She dragged the knife down further, cutting into the orange shell again, going outside of Percy's careful outline, but at the moment he didn't even care… well, he didn't care much anyway. A shock of desire jolted him and he tightened his fingers around hers.
"Fuck," she whispered grinding down on this leg and continuing to cut along the inked lines. "Fuck, Weasley, I want—" She ended with a desperate sounding pant as her free hand went to her breast and began to pinch, causing the most delicious moans to pass her lips. And they were beautiful lips, jarringly pink with lipstick much too bright and oh so kissable. Her tongue darted out to wet them, and her eyes closed, and Percy could contain himself no longer. He tugged her more firmly across his lap, and their fingers were still intertwined over the small paring knife. He guided their joined hands beneath her t-shirt and pressed the point of the knife to the thin fabric, and they began to cut it away, Percy's hand forcing hers to do as his did.
"You owe me a shirt," she said.
"Shut up," he growled back, and Tonks bit his lip and kissed him hard. He revelled in the metallic taste of his own blood mixed with her—her lips, her tongue, her teeth, and he wanted more.
"You're fucking hot when you talk like that, Weasley," she whispered. "Do it again."
The knife clattered to the floor as Percy pushed her from his lap but kept hold of her hand, tugging her roughly towards Mr. Crouch's desk. With a sweep of his arm, Percy pushed parchment, ink and carefully stacked forms onto the floor and patted the desk for Tonks to take a seat. She sat just as he'd envisioned earlier and Percy stepped in close, feeling the insides of her knees press against his hip bones.
He removed the tattered remains of her t-shirt, smiling as she lifted her arms to assist him, and he struggled with the clasps of her bra, which refused to release. Tonks brushed aside his hands and with a flick of her fingers her breasts bounced free. Percy palmed them, this thumb pressing over the hard points of her nipples then dipping his head to take one pert nub into his mouth, swirling his tongue as she uttered words of gibberish and arched her back for more, tangling her hands in his hair and clasping his head to her.
With his hands now touching her skin, his desperation for more contact increased. His hands were everywhere at once, pushing up her skirt, squeezing her thighs, caressing, kneading. Tonks tugged at his tie to no avail, it was knotted tightly and refused to loosen beneath her frantic fingers. She slid her hands to Percy's slim waist, and over, pressing the length of his bulging fly as he gasped. "Gonna fuck me right here on your boss's desk, Weasley? Gonna push me back on this desk and slide your cock into me right where old Crouch will sit down to write his next report?" She tugged down his zip, finalising the dare when her hands slid into his pants and grasped his aching cock.
Percy's responded with a growl and grasped the thin knickers beneath her hiked up skirt. They came apart in his hands with one firm tug. She pushed him away somewhat and leaned down to begin unlacing her boots. Percy's hand connected soundly with her thigh, a sharp smack that echoed throughout the office, and he shook his head. "No, leave them."
"Mmmm, forceful," she purred. "I like this side of you." She tugged free the buckle of his belt and shoved his trousers and pants down his thighs so that they gathered at his knees. She stroked up his length and back down, her hand squeezing with just the right amount of pressure as she guided him to her centre. "Gonna show me just how forceful you can be, now?"
Percy kissed her hard, feeling his glasses dig into the bridge of his nose and go cock-eyed as their faces connected. He could kiss her like this for a lifetime, feeling her teeth crash against his lips, biting, as her tongue warred with his. She seemed as desperate as he, her hand was still stroking up and down his length, guiding him into her warmth.
"Ready," she said, wrapping her legs around him.
Percy felt the heel of her boot against the back of his thigh, and he couldn't have waited any longer if he'd wanted—even a second more would have been a lifetime. He slammed into her, filling her with his length and loving how she arched her back and put her hands back on the desk to brace herself. It was as if she'd seen into his fantasies and was acting them out. He clutched her thighs and began to move, desperate, frantic, needing her—all of her—now, right now.
He pulled out and slammed back into her, hearing her whimper a small 'yes' that was ample encouragement for him to continue the frantic pace. Her hand came into play as he fucked her, he watched her open herself to him and thought he might lose control right then and there, spilling into her with only a few thrusts, but something seemed to be assisting his stamina—thankfully—and his orgasm abated.
Her fingers moved into the green curls that matched her hair—he doubted he'd ever see green pubic hair again, or that he'd want to for that matter, but they suited her somehow, and drove Percy to increase the speed of his thrusts. Then her fingers went back to her folds, circling, probing, rubbing. She gasped when she touched her clit and as her fingers moved faster, she begged Percy for more. "Faster, more, harder, yes…" and a litany of other words that drove him on. It was almost like a lesson, and Percy, apt pupil that he was, paid attention.
The heat of the room, the sweat on his skin—his glasses were fogging and Percy stopped long enough to fling them aside. He didn't want to miss anything, and though she was a bit blurry now, he could see her well enough, and just watching her was making control even more impossible. She was delicious.
And then it happened, her eyes squeezed shut, her mouth formed an 'o' and her face took on a general look of ecstasy as she bucked her hips up from the desk, her fingernails scratching unbecoming marks into the unblemished wood of Mr. Crouch's desk. And it was all too much. There was holding back, feeling her tighten around him, watching her—it drove Percy hard to climax. Dark spots bloomed behind his eyelids and his legs trembled with release as he pumped into her, and then collapsing over her, his elbows on either side of her, his lips against her ear…
And then it was broken.
The haze lifted. The room came into focus and she came into focus (well, a blurry bit of focus, but his glasses were across the room) and suddenly, he was being shoved away.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Tonks demanded.
"Me? What about you?" Percy demanded right back. "This is all your fault."
"My fault? How can this be my fault. I just came in here to help you because I felt bad that—" Tonks stopped mid-rant, and she followed Percy's gaze to the orange behemoth, half-carved in the centre of Mr. Crouch's office.
"Holy Hell!" Tonks seemed to follow his train of thought. "You don't think? No, certainly not. The pumpkin? Hagrid's pumpkin? Really?"
"The alternative," Percy said, pulling up his trousers and buckling his belt before turning to look at her still sprawled across the desk, "is that we are responsible for this ourselves. That some secret lust of yours…"
"DAMN PUMPKIN!" Tonks agreed and hurried to find her clothing.
"You know," Percy said, "this pumpkin could prove useful for—"
"I call dibs," Tonks shouted before he could finish. "I hear Charlie's coming into town for the Festival of Samhain, and he sure does like to carve pumpkins. No one should carve pumpkins alone."