Title: Consolation
Rating: M
Summary: Tonks knows she's just his consolation prize.
Gift for ladyhuntress36 on Valentine's Day 2011
They have been together for a few months now, and she knows he doesn't love her. She wishes she were naïve enough not to realize it, but unfortunately that is not the case.
She isn't surprised. She knows she was never his first choice. She knew she ran the risk of this happening when he first found out she could still use her metamorpmagus powers during times of heightened intimacy. But a part of her heart hoped he would love her and only her, and she realizes now that that part of her heart was wrong.
At first, she thinks he just likes the excitement of watching her transform as he thrusts in and out of her. It's exciting, and new for him. But there are only so many combinations of hair and eyes and smiles, and soon she realizes he has his favorites.
When he's licking and pinching her nipples, it's the red-head, with the sparkling green eyes and the smooth, creamy skin. Lily.
When she's going down on him, taking his entire length into her mouth, it's the wide-eyed, curly-haired brunette with the perky breasts. Hermione.
But it's when he's taking her from behind, thrusting into her so roughly, that it's the hardest to handle. The short, black hair. The tormented grey eyes. The lithe, scarred body of his best friend. Of her cousin. Sirius.
That's what he wants tonight, and she knows it's partially because the full moon is tomorrow and the wolf is making himself known. The wolf is merciless and he always gives in. But she also knows that today would have been Sirius' birthday, so she gives in, for Remus.
His kisses are hard and demanding. He hasn't shaved and his stubble scrapes at her cheeks. His powerful hands squeeze her ass as he flips her over onto her stomach.
He enters her roughly and his pace is fast, yet steady. He has her short, black locks in his grasp.
It bothers her that he loves them more, of course. But it also bothers her that she doesn't really mind.
As he's pumping into her, all she can think is yes and please and more, though she remains silent.
He pulls her head back by her hair and the angle is sharp and uncomfortable but she relishes in the feel of it.
Harder, please.
She thinks he loves her, but for all the wrong reasons. He loves her because she can be who he loves, not because she is who he loves.
But this is a time of war, a time of uncertainty, and she just doesn't want to be alone.
His thrusts are becoming faster and more erratic and unsteady. She feels something splash onto her back, and she realizes he is crying.
She knows she is his consolation prize.
He finishes with a strangled grunt, slips out of her, and falls onto the bed.
She catches his gaze, and realizes that he knows that she knows.
"Nymphadora –"
"Don't call me Nymphadora."