Title: Potions, Pixies and Portkeys: The Pixie
Pairing: Scabior/Tonks
Rating: M
Genre: Drama/General
Summary: What are the chances that a troublemaking pixie would lead Tonks back to the one man she had been trying to avoid? Scabior/Tonks. Lang/Lem. Second of three.
Disclaimer:I own nada…zilch…zero…nil…nought…nothing…bugger-all…sweet FA… (You get the idea.) Everything belongs to JKR – I just borrow her best characters and fiddle with their wands. *Giggles and runs away*
Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody's eye rolled around in its gilded socket as he sat at the kitchen table in Grimmauld Place – tens of yellowing scrolls of parchment were spread before him in reconnaissance for the next Order mission.
It was a simple stake-out, and he knew his protégée Nymphadora Tonks could handle it alone – she was one of the finest Aurors he'd ever seen.
And then a memory sprung up in the back of his mind…
'Well…I didn't mean to tackle Kevin…'
Moody suppressed a shiver – he still had almost-nightmares about the pink-haired witch's performance on the Stealth tests that all Aurors had to complete.
Brilliant mind, clumsy feet.
Moody drummed his fingers against the table, his eye whizzed once more…and he decided to pair Tonks with Lupin.
Though his motto was 'constant vigilance,' he thought there was always time for love in war.
"I've got a mission for you two. We think we might've found a D.E. meeting place just outside of Surrey – you'll be camped in the woods for three days watching an abandoned town hall. Any questions?"
Moody's eye roved between the two sat before him in the library in Grimmauld Place, before spinning wildly towards the door and then back again.
Tonks tried to fight a grin as she saw Lupin smile at her out of the corner of her eye.
"No, no questions," Lupin murmured back to Moody, and Moody smiled.
"Good. You're off at the crack of dawn then. I'll give you your maps and things in the morning down in the kitchen. Any problems?"
"Nope." Tonks smiled, thinking how wonderful three long days alone with Remus Lupin would be.
Scabior's face hit the cobblestones with a sickening crack.
"You filthy liar! The Dark Lord has no patience for deceivers!"
He groaned and rolled onto his back…only to look up and see a wandtip was aimed squarely between his eyes.
"I'm not lyin'," he panted, letting his eyes uncross and lock with the black gaze of Bellatrix Lestrange.
Her hair was wild about her face, framing her glowing eyes. "Then why were the items not delivered?"
"Everythin' was confiscated by the Ministry. I'm not lyin' about bein' unable to deliver – I'm on their watch-lists; I can't supply you anymore."
Her lips set in a thin line. "Then you will have to prove your loyalty in other ways…"
And it was in that dark and dingy courtyard, behind the Black Wishing Well, that Scabior received his lot in life.
He would be the first Snatcher of the Second Wizarding War.
Tonks sighed and looked around the campsite that she and Remus Lupin had created little over an hour ago – it was made up of two small green canvas tents and a battered wooden table, at which she sat on one of two dining chairs filched from Grimmauld Place.
Remus had disappeared ten minutes or so ago to cast the protective charms and wards needed to keep the camp secret.
Tonks had been left to sit and think…and longingly eye the zip of Remus' tent.
I wonder if I could just slip in there tonight…
But she knew she couldn't – she respected Remus too much to put him in such an awkward position.
If he didn't want her, then he didn't want her – that was the end of it.
They still had not sorted that out – there were longing glances and secret jokes, but nothing…concrete.
Tonks hoped that it would be this mission that bound them.
"Tonks! Come see this!" Lupin's voice called, and Tonks leapt to her feet.
She looked around the leafy bushes and trees surrounding the campsite…and saw a pale hand waving for her.
Lupin smiled softly as she jogged up to him. "We're in luck."
"Huh?"
He reached forward and parted the wall of leaves before them – Tonks peered through and saw that they stood at the top of a high incline, which looked out over the derelict town hall they were meant to be watching.
There was already activity – activity in the form of shadowy, robed figures moving beyond the frosted, arched panes of the hall windows.
Tonks' heart sank with disappointment.
She had hoped that nothing would happen, and then she and Remus could just… She inwardly sighed. Obviously the trip was going to be all work and no play.
Tonks forced a smile when she turned back and saw how eager Lupin looked. "Great. Let's get cracking then, shall we?"
He nodded happily, like an eager school boy presented with a fascinating task, and summoned some things from the camp – he took up position on the leaf-littered forest floor and charmed a hole in the leaves for him to look through, before looking up and holding out a pad and pencil to Tonks.
Tonks gave a weak smile and joined him.
Merlin, she was bored.
"Gareth Finch, I think," Remus muttered softly, and Tonks jotted down the name with a half-hearted nod.
Remus Lupin was so brilliant, Tonks thought, with his blue eyes that could get so dark they would look almost brown or green and his careworn appearance that hid a heart of gold.
And he wasn't boring either – he could tell jokes and poke fun with the best of them, and Tonks loved that…but he was very committed.
Which, she supposed, wasn't a bad thing, but they were only ever alone on missions together and on those missions Remus would never…veer.
It was all about the mission.
Sometimes he would hardly speak to her he was concentrating so hard – like right then.
Tonks wished Remus wasn't so…focused, and she hated herself for it.
"Madeline Musket."
She jotted down that name too…before pausing.
A frown crossed her face, and she looked up at Lupin. "Are you sure?"
He nodded, and leaned to the left so Tonks could peer through the hole in the leaves. "Take a look."
She did, and she could just make out a bright orange robe flashing in the darkness before being whipping through the town hall doors and being swallowed by the bright light emanating from the place.
"She does like to wear orange…but I didn't see her face." Tonks sent a confused look to Lupin. "You know she went missing, right?"
Remus' eyebrows shot up, before he shook his head. "No, I didn't know that. Her name wasn't on the list in the Prophet."
"Ministry kept it quiet," Tonks whispered, peering at the town hall again. "What with her being Fudge's cousin and all – they thought it might stir up something."
Remus' eyes scanned the town hall. "You think she's in league with the Death Eater's? It's hard to believe that's why she went missing."
And then a thought struck Tonks like lightning.
She flicked back through the notepad with nimble fingers…until she reached a name that had rung a bell as she was writing it down but she had ignored all the same.
"Luke McDonald…" She breathed, and she immediately felt Remus' gaze swing to her. "Why is he familiar?"
"His mother," Remus muttered. "Sharon McDonald, she writes for the Prophet – that section on Muggle news?"
"Of course!" Tonks gasped, flicking through the notepad once more. "And Oscar Wilkins, and Percival Pickering, and…"
"They aren't Death Eaters," Remus concluded. "We've been making a list of…of…"
"Of prisoners," Tonks breathed, staring down at the hall once more.
"I'm going to find a safe spot and send a Patronus to Moody. We need to get in there as soon as possible, and we need more people than just us two." Remus shot her a smile, before leaping up and rushing off into the shadowy moonlit woods.
Tonks tucked the pad away and vanished everything else, like the mugs of tea they had summoned, before following Lupin's example and jumping up.
Keeping to the darkest parts of the tree-covered slope, she slipped down it slowly – her feet barely made a sound for once in her life, even with the crunchy leaves underfoot.
She drew her wand as she came on level ground with the hall, before prowling around the building within the tree line.
Just as there had been before, when Lupin and Tonks were observing, there were figures moving beyond the frosted glass windows and sporadically one or two cloaked figures would come from the east and enter the hall through the large battered oak doors.
Finally, finding decent cover behind a fallen tree, Tonks knelt and began planning the assault.
But it was as she focused on the frosted glass windows, wondering whether or not they could be used as an entrance or exit, that a thought struck her – where's Remus?
Knowing the man as she did, she knew he'd be down in the trenches with her as soon as possible…yet he wasn't.
A rustle sounded behind her.
Tonks span around, heart steady and wand-hand sure.
Nothing moved in the moonlight-speckled woods except a few silvery leaves in a soft midnight wind.
Tonks frowned, before softly breathing, "Remus?"
No one answered.
Thinking it must have been a woodland creature of some sort, she turned and knelt back in her original position behind the fallen tree…but her eyes weren't trained on the town hall – they stayed fixed on the mossy bark before her, while her ears strained to hear anything more.
There was another rustle…to the left.
Tonks spun around, thrusting out her wand before her…and was met with a pair of black, beady eyes.
"Fuck…"
There was a shrill giggle before the mischief-maker flew at her in a flash of blue.
Tonks ducked, silently, achingly aware that the Cornish pixie going right for her ears could ruin the entire mission.
And, suddenly, a large, gnarled tree root got in the way.
As Tonks raised her wand at the giggling little bastard, her foot turned the wrong way and she went flying over the thick root – she landed with a soft thud in a flutter of dark blue robes.
Time seemed to still.
Had that been loud enough to–?
Suddenly, there were raised voices and the town hall door crashed open. That was her answer.
Tonks scrambled away from the light, just barely gripping her wand quick enough before the pixie went for it.
"Bugger off!" She hissed, running further into the woods for cover as loud footfalls sounded and the pixie danced around her head.
It just giggled madly, tugging at her short dark locks that she had earlier morphed from its usual pink to blend in with her dark surroundings.
Her heart was steady and she felt that tingly exhilaration that came with being on the front line on a mission buzz through her entire being…but panic started to rise as the pixie began to speak.
Its shrill voice rang out in random squeaks and squeals, and Tonks tried to grab it to just shut it up but it kept bouncing around wildly just out of reach – she couldn't even get a good eye on it, let alone aim her wand at it!
If she casted without targeting the pixie accurately…well, she'd be dead a lot sooner than she'd planned, mainly due to the noise an errant spell could cause and it would most certainly give away her position.
But, then again, the pixie was making a fine job of that itself.
Tonks ran, bounding over roots and leaves and trying to lose the little blue bastard with its hands firmly hooked on the hood of her cloak.
With glee, it laughed and shot over her head…taking the hood with it – it fell over her eyes, before it was tugged down by tiny hands and held firmly over her face.
With a louder thud than the first, she tripped and fell. But, this time, her head collided with something hard and blackness proceeded to envelope her as she lay sprawled on the forest floor.
Scabior's feet were silent as he prowled through the dark woods in search of the maker of the noise Locksley had heard.
Personally, he thought the bastard was making it up, but it did no harm to make sure.
His eyes began to flit from tree to tree, searching the shadows, and he listened keenly…but he could only see nature and only hear the blundering footfalls of his other Snatcher companions.
Scabior growled to himself, his fist clenching around his wand – the Death Eaters expected a job well done, and they expected it to be done with him ordering around a bunch of fucking idiots.
He just wished that he could–
No, it does no good wishing… If it did, she'd be here…
He shook his head at himself and went back to his task.
Slowly, he crept through the undergrowth of the Surrey wood that housed the town hall, which was acting as a Death Eater apparition point. They had been kidnapping and snatching for days, and it was the night to send them all on their merry way to a party being held at Malfoy Manor – that gloomy building would be the last they'd ever see.
Scabior was brought out of his thoughts by a sudden shrill giggle.
He darted forwards, breaking through a tree line. "What have we got here th–?"
His question was cut short by a blue blur shooting towards him.
Instinctively, he fired a freezing charm. The Cornish pixie dropped to the earth like a rock.
They'd been dealing with them for days – the woods were full of the little bastards, and Scabior had just managed to avoid a bite from a particularly nasty one earlier that day.
"Little sods," he muttered, before giving it a swift kick with his boot and sending it sailing into the shadows of the forest.
Then Scabior turned to see what the pixie had been giggling at – he was met with a dark lump.
It was a person for sure, and definitely not a Muggle judging by the long cloak. He stepped closer, pointing his wand at the person as he knelt down for a better look.
They didn't move.
Scabior poked them with his wandtip, but there was still no response.
He reached out a steady hand and ran it over the largest curve of the person – a woman… His left hand roved up to the hood of the cloak and whipped it back.
Scabior's eyes widened at the face revealed to him in the moonlight – there, under the same dark hair he had seen so long ago, was the face he had searched for for so long. Her nose was still as small and pretty as it had been in the Black Wishing Well, and her lips just as pouty and red – her features were still soft and sweet, but still so alluring.
It was Nymph.
Her skin glowed in the moonlight, and he found his thumb gently caressing the line of her jaw – it was silkier and smoother than he remembered it... But when he leaned in and gently sniffed, he found that her scent was exactly the same – strawberries… He always did have a good nose.
Then something caught his eye.
Softly shining in the moonlight, beneath her head, was a small black disc…which began to widen.
"Christ…" He muttered, realising it was blood – her blood.
He gently rolled her to the right, forgetting everything that wasn't seeing her wide grey eyes open and alight on him. A red rock greeted his gaze as he moved Nymph's head, stained dark with her blood, and when he moved his eyes to her face he found a gash on her forehead, emptying blood down her pale skin.
Quickly, tightly grasping his wand in his hand, he muttered a few cleansing spells – he siphoned the blood away, baring the wound to his gaze. It was much smaller than he expected and he knew a good spell to heal her skin.
A warmth ricocheted through Scabior, before slowly trickling down his arm – the wound healed before his eyes, damaged skin becoming whole and pale once more.
The warmth left him, her healing complete, and he was forced to realise that the intruder was Nymph.
He thumbed her face once more.
He had looked for her for so long, weeks and weeks, and had found absolutely nothing. Now he had her and he had to make her his prisoner.
While he knew that he would die if anyone found he had helped her escape, he just couldn't give the pale beauty over to the wolves.
She was his, and she would stay his.
Scabior could hear his boys closing in on their position, their clumsy footfalls sounding louder and louder, and with two swift raps of his wand he casted two Disillusionment Charms – one for himself and one for Nymph.
She swam in and out of focus, before disappearing before his eyes. He smirked – he always did cast a good one.
As the other Snatchers blundered towards them, Scabior simply lifted Nymph into his arms and softly crept away into the shadows.
At personal risk to himself, he gripped her and his wand a little tighter and Apparated to his East London flat. But though the risk to him was great, he thought that saving her would be infinitely more worth it than saving his own skin.
Tonks suddenly felt water run down her throat.
Her eyes flew open and she coughed the liquid back up, cupping her hands in front of her face, before limply falling back into bed.
She didn't know where the water had come from, but she didn't care – it was a Sunday morning and she could sleep in, lazily dreaming about the rest of her easy stress-free day.
She smiled and sighed, snuggling back into the soft pillow beneath her head.
Something niggled at her. What was it? The feel of the bed? No…well, maybe. The…smell? There was a strange smell – not unpleasant, just…foreign.
Well, not entirely foreign, she corrected herself.
She'd had dreams and day-dreams and downright fantasies about the man she had met in that pub – Scabior…
But the most vivid thing was always the smell – salt and smoke and a gentle soapy scent.
Tonks felt her hair changing colour, as it always did when she thought of him – she knew it'd be phone box red. It was her anger colour…but it seemed to be her lust colour as well nowadays.
She also felt herself growing a little wet at the memories spinning through her mind.
She toyed with the idea of running her hands down her body…before water suddenly splashed onto her face.
She opened her eyes and sat up with a gasp, fixing her gaze on the self-squeezing rag above her head. It suddenly seemed content with a job well done and floated off to sit on the bedside table.
That bedside table was not her bedside table.
She looked about the room.
The bed she was on was pushed into a corner of the room, whilst the other corners were practically invisible…due to the piles and piles of books and objects stacked and scattered about the room. But there seemed to be a method to the madness – it looked less like a junk shop and more like a Victorian curiosity store.
The walls were papered a dark blue with a regal gold print, suggesting a Ravenclaw, but the large emerald and silver Slytherin banner tacked to the wall saw those thoughts away.
The door to the room was open. She looked to the right to see the bedside table had her wand sat on it.
What in the name of Merlin's saggy Y-fronts was going on?
The only friendly (she snorted at this) Slytherin she could think of was Snape, and she knew he was far more meticulous than the room she was in suggested.
A clang suddenly sounded from outside the room. It was followed by a curse.
She slowly crept out of the bed, took up her wand, and slunk out of the room.
The bare wooden floorboards beneath her feet threatened to creak with every step, yet somehow they stayed silent as she crept down the long, thin hallway she was on. The walls were dark green, and there were no photographs like she felt there should have been – she saw that there were small unpainted holes where nails should have been, from which photo frames should have hung.
At the end of the door-less hallway was one large room – it was as cluttered at the bedroom, worse even, but it looked clean and still had that curiosity shop air to it. Though, she noted, there were many Dark objects mixed in with the ordinary – they gave off a cold feeling.
Another clang suddenly sounded.
Tonks spun to the right to see one last doorway – it was open, and inside she could see a long wooden table covered in Potions ingredients. Pots, bowls, vials, jars, tubes, and bottles littered the stained surface, and as she moved closer she could see a small bronze cauldron hovering over an enchanted fire sat in a glass dish.
There was movement inside the room, which, judging by the pile of half-done washing up by the sink, was the kitchen.
"Fuckin' slugs," someone, a man, growled lowly from inside, and the voice struck her right between the eyes.
Or possibly the legs.
Scabior…
And it all came rushing back. It wasn't a Sunday morning… The mission, the forest…and the pixie…
She felt her eyes narrow – that fucking pixie…
Where the hell had Scabior come from? And, more importantly, why the hell was she obviously at his place?
Then, suddenly, ice struck her heart – Remus…
Where was he? Was he safe? Why hadn't he tried to contact her?
Without a second thought, and with her wand raised high, she stormed into the kitchen.
Her eyes met with Scabior's bright blue ones. "Where the hell is he?"
Scabior stood there in a pair of dark blue drainpipes, a black tank, and a leather Potions apron the same colour as his dark brown, nearly-dreadlocked, hair. He was barefoot as well, and Tonks didn't know why she became focused on that.
"Who're you talkin' about?" His deep, dark voice came, and Tonks suppressed a shiver.
She firmed her stance, squaring her shoulders. "Remus Lupin. Where is he?"
Scabior smiled. "I have absolutely no idea who that is."
Tonks glared – her gut said 'truth' while her head was in too much of a spin to be of any use.
She could feel one hell of a headache coming on.
"Come sit down, love," he said, jutting his chin towards a rickety-looking wooden chair at the table's edge.
Tonks took a step towards it, her head suddenly spinning wildly. Her knees went weak.
But instead of hitting the hard floor, she felt her fall cushioned by a lean and muscular body that smelt strongly of soap and smoke.
"Fuckin' hell, love. You do like fallin' over, don'tcha?" The chest beneath her ear rumbled.
She moaned.
Tonks felt herself being propped up in a chair, but the warm supportive arms didn't disappear – they held her tightly to the chair, before one hand moved away.
She blearily opened her eyes to find a soup spoon hovering before her – it was full of a thin green liquid.
"Drink up," a rough voice murmured in her ear.
She shivered outright at the warm breath that fanned over her skin.
One of Scabior's long arms moved down, circling her waist and holding her to the chair as he crouched down beside her and pressed his warm mouth to her ear.
"Drink up, Nymph," he breathed. "It'll fix that nasty bump you took."
A pain began stabbing behind her right eye, and she knew she just had to trust him.
Her lips met the warm metal and she drank down the smooth liquid – it tasted sweet but tangy, like liquorice, and she knew it was a healing brew.
Her vision began to swim slightly, the brew taking effect, and as her gaze drifted it found Scabior's large hand protectively splayed over her stomach.
She liked the shining stag glowing on his finger, and the way his hand warmed her.
She fell.
When Tonks next awoke, she knew she wasn't alone.
She blearily opened her eyes and found herself wrapped up in a pair of long muscular arms, with Scabior's broad chest beneath her head as they lay on his bed.
She couldn't find it within herself to move.
"Evenin', love," Scabior muttered, his voice rumbling in his chest and against her ear.
One of his hands rose and ran through her hair, his nails pleasantly scratching her scalp. She felt her hair turn colour.
"Blue," he muttered. "How do you do that?"
She sighed softly, unable to stop herself from burrowing into his warmth. "Metamorphmagus."
"Fuck," he said, his tone impressed.
She simply nodded.
Tonks didn't know why she wasn't fighting, wasn't reaching for her wand to blast him away, but…she was just exhausted. She didn't want to fight and, so far, he hadn't given her a reason to.
"Tell me," she muttered.
She didn't have to explain.
"I've been moonlightin' as a Snatcher. Apparently, you stumbled across our place and then ran into a little trouble." He shrugged beneath her. "I found you, fixed you up, cast a couple of Disillusionment Charms, and Apparated us both here."
One thing struck her.
"A Snatcher?" She asked hollowly – he had just given her a reason to fight him.
She felt him shift beneath her, before one of his hands cupped her chin and urged her to look up at him. She did so, reluctantly.
His make-up was smudged, his eyes were blue and sorrowful. "I don't like doin' it."
"Then–"
He shook his head. "Couldn't just give it up, could I? I was forced."
Tonks frowned. "'Couldn't'? You said 'couldn't'?"
Scabior smiled, flashing his bright white teeth. "I wouldn't call betrayal 'giving it up'."
Her head cleared a little…and she realised that was what he had done – he'd betrayed the Death Eaters…to save her.
She huffed and let her head fall back onto his chest. "You're just…ugh…"
He had been a mistake, a one night stand, a product of bad judgement and a series of unfortunate events, and most definitely the best shag of her life.
Why did he have to go and save her, acting all noble? Now, she had to decide whether to take him in for being a Snatcher, and whether it really was the potion that had made her go back to his room with him.
Because it had been the potion that had made her act on her desires, but she was unsure whether it had actually created those desires in the first place. Lying right there in his arms, pressed against his long lean body and wrapped up in his amazing scent…she felt those desires keenly, and they didn't seem magically made at all.
They were base, they were deep, and they were primal.
She felt her hair turning again.
A growling noise rumbled in Scabior's chest. "I like that."
Tonks cracked an eyelid to see a lock of red. "The red?"
He made a sound of affirmation, his hand raking through her hair again.
Tonks shivered, wetness dampening her knickers beneath her robes.
She heard Scabior take a deep breath, before letting out a long moan.
"Did you know I have a good nose, love?" He asked lowly, roughly.
She shook her head jerkily.
"Mmm… Well, I do…and I would smell that from a mile away…" He growled. "Christ, you smell delicious…"
She felt him harden against the outside of her thigh.
Tonks had no idea what she was doing – she was dazed, she was coming out of an injury, she was in bed with the enemy…but she wanted everything he could give her and, most importantly, she wanted him to make her feel better.
Lupin had been making her feel down and worthless, no matter how many smiles he threw in her direction – whereas Scabior wanted her.
His hand ran down her spine, setting it ablaze. "Do you want this, Nymph?"
At her name, she looked up. Their eyes met, and she didn't have to speak for him to know the answer.
There she was, his dream girl, wrapped up in his arms with dark grey lust-filled eyes and silky dark red hair.
Her scent was everywhere – on his skin, in his lungs, on his tongue…and Scabior needed her. His cock was hard and pulsing for her sweet, wet place.
Her hands went up, and before he knew it she had rolled onto her back and pulled him on top of her by his tank.
He growled lowly as she spread her knees to accommodate him, and his mouth automatically sought out her neck. She tipped her head back as his teeth scraped over her soft, fine skin, moaning low in her throat.
While one of his hands busied itself with clutching her arching body tightly to his, the other scrabbled for his wand. His fingers met the thin wood of his wand and he gripped it tightly in his hand, before muttering a spell to unclothe them both.
Suddenly their hot flesh met in a flutter of material leaving their bodies, and Scabior couldn't help but groan.
His heart pounded as he looked down on the woman he had yearned for. He leant down, pressing his face to the side of hers and panting against her ear as he rearranged their bodies to better fit each other's. It didn't take much.
Soon, her legs were parted, wrapped around his waist, and her nails dug into the flesh above his shoulder blades as she clutched him closer to her full, rounded breasts.
He teased her hot pussy with the very tip of his cock.
She groaned. "Scabior…"
He impossibly hardened at his name on her red lips.
Scabior growled. "Say it again."
Her eyes were bright, her smile wicked, as she licked her lips and arched against him provocatively – she keened, "Sca-bior…"
He was done for.
With one last growl, he sunk into her.
His hair fell around their faces, curtaining them from the soft yellow lamplight in the room and giving them their own place. A place that was untouchable. The War couldn't reach them there.
Nymph's mouth parted in pleasure as his cock filled her, deeply. Scabior took the chance to take her lips and kiss her for all he was worth, and for all the times he had wanted her, needed her, and she hadn't been there.
One night and she had infected him. He had needed her since she had disappeared that day.
She was a stranger, but a stranger he felt he knew well.
He knew her body, her moans and her sighs, and he knew her face – the way it twisted in pleasure and slackened in desire… It was so beautiful.
"Nymph…" He breathed against her ear, pushing himself more roughly within her.
He was determined – determined not to be forgotten, not to be left again, and not to be mistaken with anyone else. He wanted her to say his name again and never forget it.
She looked up at him with wide grey eyes – they were slightly hooded with lust, but he could see something shine within them.
She felt the same.
"Scabior," she muttered, pulling him against her tightly and making him cry out as he hit a spot deep within her. "Scabior, please…"
Her nails scored his back and his hips flexed faster, thrusting in and out of her with wild abandon. She was so hot, so wet, so deliciously tight, and he never wanted to be anywhere else again.
Scabior's hands settled underneath Nymph, clutching her back and pulling her up against him as he angled his hips so his stomach brushed her clit.
She screamed in pleasure into his ear and he revelled in the sound.
And he muttered. He muttered to her how beautiful she was, how tight she was, how well she gripped his hard cock…and he muttered how he felt, how every inch of her completed every inch of him.
It was far-reaching for practical strangers, but it was the truth. He didn't know what magic had bound them, but it had.
He would never be the same.
She clutched at him and moaned, circling her hips and squeezing him with her inner muscles.
Scabior hissed and gasped into her neck, kissing and nipping at the skin there as he held her down and pounded into her hungry pussy.
He felt himself climbing that slope and he couldn't turn back. He pounded harder.
"Yes!" She gasped. "Yes…"
She shook, she trembled, and she shattered beneath him. He followed with a hoarse yell.
He went blind with pleasure, his orgasm robbing him of any coherent thought he may have had – he could only taste strawberries on his tongue, and could only feel Nymph milking him of everything he had as he emptied himself within her.
His legs went weak, as did his arms, but he managed to shakily hold himself off of her vulnerable body as he hazily regained his sight.
She was lazily smiling up at him, and before he knew it she had tugged his body down to hers. She wrapped her limbs around him and held him to her.
There was no noise but breathing, no movement but their furiously pounding hearts, and Scabior thanked Merlin that this time the woman didn't run from him.
He fell asleep in her arms.
Tonks laid awake, listening to Scabior's breathing.
Her heart physically hurt at the thought of leaving without saying anything, but she knew she had to. She had a life to return to, people to worry about and that worried about her, and she had her part to play in the Order.
It was far too important to ignore.
She slipped out from beneath his warm and pleasant weight. He frowned and groaned unhappily, hands blindly reaching for her in his sleep.
She still shifted away.
Eventually, he calmed, but his frown didn't recede.
Silently standing from the bed, she took up her wand from the bedside table and charmed her clothes back onto her body. They were cold, and she ached to climb back into bed with the beautiful Scabior.
And he was beautiful.
He lay uncovered, soft lamplight falling over his pale skin, and his body was like a piece of art. He was sculpted, his lean body muscled in all the right places and slim in all the others, but the part she liked best about him was not his body.
She liked the single streak of red that coloured his dark brown hair.
She gently stroked the red strands, kneeling at the bedside, and she felt her hair change. It grew longer, darker, and she felt a different colour spin between the rest – she knew, without looking, that it was her own streak of red.
Tonks gently took his hand, placed a lingering kiss on the silver stag ring Scabior wore, and then stepped back.
With a final breath, she took up her wand and Apparated to Grimmauld Place.
The sight that met her eyes was unbelievable.
She stood just within the doorway, and the house was in utter chaos. People were shouting, throwing parchments to one another, and running through different rooms.
Tonks' eyes roved over the state of things, making her way down the hallway and towards the kitchen – it seemed clear for the moment, and no one seemed to notice her.
She opened the kitchen door and found an entire Order meeting in progress – everyone was in their seats and pouring over parchments and talking to each other.
She absently wondered what was going on, but guessed she was immediately needed. Perhaps something had happened while she was holed up recuperating with Scabior.
She needed a Firewhiskey.
Knowing summoning some would most likely be a fruitless effort, because Sirius had taken to charming it and hiding it from Dung, she tried to spot her cousin in the crowd.
She finally saw a wavy head of black and silver hair and made her way towards it – she was limping again, just like the first time. Scabior was the only man who she had met who could really–
Tonks reached Sirius and tapped his shoulder, sighing, "Wotcher. Got any Firewhiskey, Siri? Looks like I need it, eh?"
Her cousin swung around, and her gaze met a face with disbelief written all over it. His eyes had shadows surrounding them, his face was practically gaunt, and…why the hell was he looking at her like he had seen a ghost?
Perhaps he had – his mother was probably going mad with all the noise and stuff going on in her–
Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by Sirius leaping up from his chair, knocking it back and toppling it over on to the floor, and his arms going around her like steel bands.
"Merlin, Nymphadora," he groaned, and his voice was full of pain.
She hugged him back, wide-eyed, and looked around over his shoulder to find the kitchen had ground to a halt and everyone was watching her like she was HWMNBN himself.
Sirius' body moved with silent sobs.
Tonks rubbed his back. "Hey. Hey. It's alright…whatever it is."
Tonks' eyes met tired blue ones – across the table sat Remus Lupin, looking a little worse for wear but unharmed.
Tonks sighed in relief in Sirius' arms. "Thank goodness. I thought something had happened to you, Remus."
"Me?" He choked.
Okay. She was confused.
"Yes. You." She frowned, as Sirius pulled back with wet eyes. "What?"
A soft, but commanding, voice suddenly sounded. "My dear Tonks?"
Tonks shifted to see Professor Dumbledore gazing at her kindly over his half-moon spectacles.
She smiled softly at him. "Yes, Professor?"
He crooked his finger.
She hobbled towards him…and the kitchen erupted in outrage.
Molly Weasley was the first to reach Tonks. "Tonks! Tonks! Goodness, dear! What happened to you? Are you hurt? We've been so worried! Days, dear! Days it's been!"
Everything clicked. All the running around and the frantic searching…was all for her.
"Oh," she said quietly, looking at Dumbledore with wide eyes as Molly pushed her down into the chair next to Dumbledore's.
"Do you know how long you've been gone?" Dumbledore asked softly.
The kitchen quieted in anticipation of her answer.
Tonks frowned to herself, her head aching slightly as she thought hard. Well…actually, she had no idea.
"A day?" She guessed.
Dumbledore smiled sadly, and whispered, "A little longer than that."
Suddenly, there was yelling…and stomping…and crashing…and her tutor, Mad Eye, came storming through the kitchen door looking wet and windswept.
"Where is she?" He growled, both his eyes frantically searching for her. "Where is she?"
And then he found her. Both eyes stopped on her – the magical one not even twitching in another direction.
Merlin…
He barrelled towards her, hauling her out of her chair and against his body within seconds in a rough and tight hug.
He squeezed her. "You bloody fool. You bloody, bloody fool…"
Tonks hugged him back, wincing as he pressed a few more-than-achy spots she was sure Scabior had created with his passionate enthusiasm. She didn't regret it an inch.
Mad Eye pulled back, pulling her from her thoughts, and growled, "I should bloody strip you of your rank."
"I was on an Order mission," she replied dazedly.
He huffed and jerked his head in a nod. "You're lucky, Nymphadora. If that had been a Ministry mission, I would–"
She cut in. "If that had been a Ministry mission, the information would have either been wrong or some bumbling idiot would have gotten me killed. So, I'm sorry, Mad Eye, but you still wouldn't get to kick me out."
His eyes searched hers, before a smile lit up his face – she knew it was invisible to everyone but her.
Voices suddenly interrupted. They were all demanding her story. She was dazedly pushed into the chair next to Dumbledore again, and a Firewhiskey was put in front of her by her cousin. Sirius sat down next to her, and firmly planted his arm around her waist.
It touched her to see how much he cared.
She gave him a swift kiss on the cheek.
Everyone stared at her with open curiosity.
She gulped down her Firewhiskey, before sighing, "That'll work out the kinks."
"Spill," Sirius murmured.
Tonks resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
"We found your blood in the woods," Moody said, standing close by and staring at her intently.
What the hell could she tell them? A pixie outwitted her? It was the only believable story she had, and…well, all good lies are based on the truth, aren't they? She didn't have to say it was a pixie…or that she met up with a one night stand and made him more than that…
"Remus went to send a Patronus, so I went down to the hall to get a closer look," she began. "I hid behind a fallen tree, and then I heard something from behind. I span around and there was this huge bloke…"
She gestured wildly with her hands, exaggerating the whole thing as best she could.
"So, I stunned him, but he blocked me, and then the noise roused everyone inside. So…well, I legged it. Tripped a few times on my merry way." She grinned. "Then he comes out of nowhere and fires this spell at me – it misses, rebounds, and I fall over and hit my head on this dirty great rock."
She'd heard enough 'war stories' told by old Aurors to get away with telling a few good porkies herself.
"Anyway, I'm out for the count for a few minutes, but I hear those Snatchers coming. I cast a Disillusionment and then I look up to see the bloke that was chasing me is tied up with this Cornish pixie."
Mad Eye cut in with a snort. "All over those woods they were."
Tonks nodded. "So, they start firing at him and I have enough time to get away. I was gone so long – however long it was – because I thought it was best to fix myself up and lie low. I went to Scotland."
She pulled that from nowhere, but the look in Mad Eye's good eye said it was the right thing.
"Good girl." He smirked. "Not many Death Eaters up there at the moment. They're being pushed back. Smart move. Smart move."
She sighed inwardly with relief as everyone seemed to buy her load of troll dung.
It was hours later, after everyone was satisfied with her story and that she was in one piece, that everyone began disappearing and going back home. They all left with words of relief that she was still alive and ones of hope that she would feel better soon.
She just sat in her chair and waited for everyone to leave so she could go upstairs and hug herself to sleep. She was bone tired.
But Dumbledore seemed to wait for everyone else to leave before he left. When the last person had shut the kitchen door behind them, she found out why.
"You said 'Snatchers,'" he murmured.
Tonks furrowed her brow at him. "Huh?"
"You said 'Snatchers,' my dear. No one said they were Snatchers. How did you know?"
"Oh."
Tonks almost broke out in a cold sweat at him seeing through her huge web of lies.
That was until he winked and stood up. "I don't think anyone else noticed. Goodnight, sweet Tonks."
He drifted to the kitchen door, pausing once to whisper, "Make sure you're doing the right thing."
And then he was gone.
Tonks puzzled for a moment at his meaning, before deciding it was best well left alone – he couldn't really mean Scabior, could he?
She gingerly stood and Apparated to her room. The sight that met her was unexpected.
Remus Lupin stood at the end of her bed, eyes red and hands in pockets. "Oh, Tonks…"
She said nothing.
He came forward, pulling his hands from his pockets and taking hers in his. "I thought… I thought…"
She knew he exactly what he had thought – he had thought her dead and he had realised he wanted to tell her something.
He loved her. It was in his eyes.
His hand cupped her face. "Be with me, Tonks. Please."
Tonks was numb, staring up at him with none of the feelings she had had for him before.
Because…Lupin wasn't passionate and rough with her; he didn't have a red streak in his hair; he didn't wear trousers that were far too tight; he didn't own a silver stag ring; he didn't swear and curse; he didn't wear eye-liner; and he definitely didn't own any part of her anymore.
She wanted Scabior and, she realised with a sinking heart, that meant destroying everything else.
Tonks could only be honest. "I'm sorry, Remus."
Author's Note:
Please, let me know what you think! (: Peace!