There Is a Light that Never Goes Out
Chapter 1: Household Charms Never Were Her Strong Suit
"Oh, shit," Tonks muttered in a whisper. Her bubblegum pink hair, half of which was pulled into a loose bun on top of her head, turned to a mousey brown as she turned to see exactly what she had run into. A small table against the cool stone wall of the empty classroom wobbled and she noticed a few bottles on the floor - now clanking around as they rolled.
She moved to pick up the bottles, household charms never were her strong suit. She stumbled slightly over the mess and, to her surprise, up against a body that hadn't been there before. Or, rather, had not been visible before, and she didn't have much time to ponder how long he'd been there in the darkness, watching her, and waiting for the right moment to reveal himself, before the figure spoke.
"Well, stupid girl," the deep voice dripping with disdain began, "I hope you aren't laboring under the illusion that you have the right to be down here or has your fascination with turning your hair preposterous colors affected what little brain you had?"
"Oh, for fucks sake, Snape. It's just you."
She turned her head over her shoulder to look at him. Still close enough to him so that she could feel the heat from his body. She turned to face him, her hand resting on her chest – feeling her quickened heart begin to slow and the heaviness in her chest, and she breathed in deeply to calm her nerves down.
After a few moments of silence, she began to speak again – at a rapid pace. Severus prepared himself for an onslaught of words to smack him in the face – quickly spoken and bubbly, fascinating yet irritating, her voice one that would stick with him for days to come.
"I came down here because I figure if there's anywhere a death eater might be lurking, well, it'd be around the dungeons. I didn't suspect that I'd find yo-"
"I am a Death Eater, girl!" he snarled.
She huffed and rolled her eyes at him, "Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know."
She postured her body to be stiff and straight, attempting to make herself taller than she was. She raised her chin in the air, turning up her nose as if something smelled poorly. Her hair went jet black before she spoke again in a deep and daft voice:
"I, Severus Snape, am a servant of The Dark Lord. I should be trusted by noone other than Albus Dumbledore The rest of you lowly, stupid, petulant imbeciles should fear me, as I am a Death Eater."
She slouched back into her own posture and her hair returned to its bubble gum pink. She scrunched her face up in bored exasperation.
"I know your little speech by now, so can't you just shut your fucking mouth and spare me? It is me after all, Severus. Not your typical half-wit. If anything I'm just a quarter-wit. I must be spending all my time with you anyhow." She smiled sarcastically at him and slapped his shoulder jovially. He suppressed a laugh and forced a grimace at her touch, but he said nothing.
He maneuvered his way around her so that he managed to get off of the wall he was posted against. He brushed her lightly with his arm but otherwise managed to avoid touching her. He began to walk swiftly through the dungeon
Tonks quickened her pace and followed, "Alright then. So, what're we up to tonight? Are you brewing anything new? Do you have any interesting articles for me to look-over?"
"I did not ask you to make notes on that article, Miss Tonks. You simply took it upon yourself to scribble all over a perfectly fine article."
"You are a right grouch, you know that? It's just Tonks, Professor. And, I noticed that you took some of that scribble and used it in your final work."
He paused at the portrait or his living quarters, looked down at the floor, took a deep breath, and said, admitting defeat, "I had no plans this evening except to enjoy a quiet evening by myself reading, but I assume you intend on ruining that peace and quiet?" He looked back at her over his shoulder.
She shrugged her shoulders and bobbed her head left-to-right in consideration, "That's sounds about right."
He sighed, "Very well. Come on then." He quietly said, so she couldn't hear, the word "bubblegum" and the portrait to his living quarters swung open.
"And..." she began loudly behind him, "don't act as if me hanging around and nagging you once a week isn't the best thing that's ever happened to you." He turned around to scoff at her, as he once again noticed how bizarre and delightful it was to have her loud voice and bright pink hair crash their way into his home.
Chapter 2: Equally Annoying and Endearing
Tonks had her bare feet pressed against his leg. Her blue chucks were lying on the floor beside the couch next to a pair of socks that had images of eggs and bacon printed on them. She'd charmed them so that the bacon sizzled every so often. Snape found this amusing, but he didn't tell her this.
The first time she'd come to this place and taken off her shoes and socks like she lived there with him, Snape was shocked, but he quickly learned not to be shocked by anything she did or said.
She slipped whatever oddly colored shoe and oddly patterned sock she had on off without thought and plopped down onto his couch, and she had done so every time she'd been here since the first time.
This was now their seventh time spending an evening alone in each other's' presence. She'd made her point to see him once a week for six weeks now. This visit, however, was out of her routine. She patrolled Hogwarts more than once a week, but only sought him out on one of those visits.
The first time they were alone together, it wasn't planned; she came to leave him food. He was confused, as one might be, when she walked into his classroom. He could see her through his office door. The door was opened; with it being so late, at half-past midnight, he didn't assume any students would be coming in.
She seemed just as surprised as he was, when she noticed him in his office. "Oh!" She squeaked, "I, uh, well, I didn't think you'd be in here at this time of night. I brought you, well, uh, I was finishing my rounds, and I noticed at the last Order meeting how tired you looked, and I thought that perhaps you weren't taking the best care of yourself. You know? You're probably a lot busier than most of really give you credit for, so I went down to the kitchens at the end of my shift, and I caught up with the house elves; you know they are really delightful. I have missed talking to them. I love cooking, and I owe a lot of credit to them, but anyway. They let me cook down there, which is great because they'll clean up the mess I make. I'm a messy cook."
She took in a deep breath.
Snape stared at her bewildered.
"Well, anyway, I made you some food. It's charmed so that it'll stay warm until morning. I assumed you'd come down here first thing to grade or prep for class, and I also assumed you wouldn't eat breakfast before."
She held out the basket to him. In her long-winded speech, she'd quickly made her way to the back of the classroom and she was standing in the threshold of his office door.
"There's a thing of tea and a small quiche."
There was a long pause. She shifted on her feet, staring at them nervously, and she twisted her hands in front of her. He looked down at her feet. They were clad in yellow slip-on shoes that appeared to have ladybugs on them. The ladybugs fluttered amongst one another. He raised an eyebrow in curiosity but said nothing. He looked at her. Examining her. Reading her. Trying to figure out why in the world she would actually be down here.
He took the basket from her timidly and without a word. His eyebrows raised in an expression of disbelief.
Once the basket was in his hand, she let go and turned quickly to leave. Her head down staring at her shoes. The ladybugs flying quickly now, bouncing at the edges of her shoes. Pink strands of hair flounced in the air as she went. She didn't stop until she was at her apparition point at the gates of Hogsmeade.
The second time she saw him was more on his accord than hers. She was on patrol and was actively avoiding him. He, however, had a basket to return. He found her near the kitchens at a late hour. She was slouched against a wall with a gigantic chocolate croissant in her hand. "Did the house elves make that especially for you? That thing could feed a whole table of idiot Gryffindor boys."
He came from around the corner, and she'd been so lost in thought, so comforted in this spot that she didn't hear him approach.
She jumped at his word, but tried to appear as calm as possible. "This is nothing. I can put away a lot more food than a table of grown men. It's a blessing and a curse." She stood as she said this. She used her free hand to give a wave at her body - insinuating her frame was a direct result of her all her eating.
Snape tried not to look her over - to be respectful of her and to not seem too keen. He knew what her body was like. It's hard not to notice when a witch ditches robes and wearing nothing but black jeans or, what appeared to be soft, leggings. Her t-shirts or sweaters were often too large around her feminine shoulders but they still showed off her thick pear shape.
He took a slow breath, "I've come to bring you back your basket. Thank you. It was quite acceptable. A miracle indeed."
"Ah! Yes! Well, you could have just left the basket with your laundry. It's the house elves. They would have taken it. You think I just have picnic basket lying around? Do I seem the type who lies in the grass and has picnics alone?" She laughed as she spoke, something Snape found equally annoying and endearing.
"Yes - well, goodnight Miss Tonks." He began to walk away, turning on his heel to leave.
She took a bite of her croissant. Stared at him for a moment. Looked up at the ceiling in exasperation. Looked back at him. "Swooping away like a damned bat. Typical" she muttered, and she set off after him.
She followed him while she ate. She bobbed jovially behind him, enjoying the walk about the castle at night; she assumed he'd comment on her following him, but he didn't.
He paused, finally, at the portrait to his chambers. Turning around he finally spoke, "For the Sake of Salazar. You are absolutely the most annoying woman I've ever met."
He muttered something under his breath and walked through his now open portrait.
Tonks stood at the edge of it; she peered in. "Is that your idea of a fucking invitation? I think I'd get a nicer invite from Mundungus."
"Yes, well, I'm sure he'd be happy to have you pestering him. Why don't you go do that instead?" He began to take off his robe. Revealing carefully tailored and well fit black slacks and a black button down shirt that he slung over a high-backed chair by his personal desk.
"Oh no," she said stepping through, pausing at the portrait slammed behind her. "You, sweet Severus, are far more fun." She put emphasis on her alliteration and smiled widely at him.
Chapter Three: The Usual Onslaught of Words and Laughter and Expressions.
From the get-go, as if she'd never been more at home in her life, she walked into his living quarters, settled onto his couch, and kicked off another charming pair of charmed shoes.
And so every week since, on one of her patrols, after she'd confirmed with headquarters that Hogwarts was clear, she'd find him, and they'd spend several hours together. The time was mostly spent with her talking incessantly about books and food and music. He couldn't help find her charming when she got worked up with what she was saying. He'd chuckle occasionally and low.
He never said much, but he took her in - consuming her movements and her facial expressions. He found his heart would pang when a smile burst across her face mid-laugh. He'd, in fact, in such a short amount of time become quite taken with her. She asked nothing of him but his company. She didn't even press him into talking much. She rarely asked him questions, and she only needled him when they were having a snark.
And, so, here she was again. On his couch. Barefooted. Her hands in her hair. She was twirling a strand slowly and thoughtfully. She seemed to have sunken into a somewhat sad contemplative state. This he'd yet to see.
He was finding her face remarkably beautiful as it was allowed to rest from the usual onslaught of words and laughter and expressions.
"You were here last night on patrol. Two nights in a row seems a bit much. The Ministry aren't known for being considerate." He wasn't looking at her. He was sitting on the other end of the couch. He arms rested on his knees. He was looking down at his boots.
She tugged slightly on the strand she was working between her fingers before letting it go, as he spoke. Her hands now rested on her knees; her fingers sinking in and out of the holes at the knees of her jeans.
"Oh. Yes. Well, something came up and Kingsley had something to do tonight for the Ministry. I volunteered to take his place. Someone had to. I am quite tired, and I didn't expect to run into you. After all, I just saw you last night."
"Yes. I know." He sighed deeply. "But here you are again."
"You enjoy me" Her tone shifted. It wasn't the usual comical tone she spat at him to playfully boast about how she improved his evenings. She said it low and quiet, almost as if not to be heard, almost as if it were just for her.
Nothing more was said. He sat staring at his boots. Her fingers took back residence in her hair - she twirled a finger while staring at his bookshelves.
After ten or so minutes of silence, she muttered a spell under her breath, slung her feet off the couch and watched as her socks and shoes found their home on her feet. She ran her hands over her thighs and pulled at the hem of her sweater.
"I best be off. Work in the morning, you know."
He didn't look up at her. He just nodded.
Something, very quickly and unexpectedly had shifted in the air. There was a tension. She stood less than two feet from where he sat. The space between them thick with uncertainty.
She took a deep breath working to regain control of her cheerfulness. She took her hip and bumped into his arm playfully, "Goodnight, you old grouch."
She walked past him, and, as she did so, he reached out without thought and grabbed her hand. He rubbed his thumb against her fingers. He refused to look up at her, to see the look of concern and horror on her face. After a few moments, he let go of her hand. She didn't pull her hand away. She let it rest midair where he'd held it before she drew her fingers into her palm - as if trying to capture the warmth, before she walked out of his quarters.
Chapter 4: She Wanted His Laughter
Tonks knew herself well enough to know herself well enough that she had to stay away from him. She, from the get go, pursued him. She offered him her quiche, her laughter, and herself. She didn't know when it began or why, but she was, from early on, drawn to him.
He had been, of course, her potions professor. She, as clumsy as she was, didn't fare too well in class, but despite that, he didn't seem to dislike her as a student. He didn't like her either, but he seemed to have better things to do than to pick on a clumsy, silly little Hufflepuff. She liked him just fine as a professor. He was moody, but she appreciated his wit and sarcasm. Occasionally, she'd daydream about him, but nothing too perverse, in fact, her favorite thing was to consider how she could make her sour professor laugh. She'd spent hours thinking of what his sincere laugh might sound like.
Tonks had her fair share of boyfriends and girlfriends in school. People liked her. They seemed to be drawn to her. She wasn't so sure why, but she didn't question it too much. She loved talking to people. She loved being intimate with people. She loved, most of all, making people feel loved.
Up until she'd joined the Order, she'd mostly forgotten about Snape. Well, forget is the wrong word. He just didn't cross her mind much once she left Hogwarts. She was an auror, after all; she was busy in her professional life and in her personal life.
However, in joining the Order, she again, found herself drawn to him; she was drawn to his unhappiness especially, and she wanted to remedy it.
She wanted his laughter.
Her plan was simple, really, she spent less time worrying about Sirius and Remus at meetings. The moment she stopped being one of the boys, he immediately warmed. It was subtle, but it was there.
She knew he held onto his past, and she knew how he felt about Remus and, in particular, Sirius. She could cut-up with the boys any day, but during Order meetings, she didn't want to, and she didn't need to. She'd always spoke to Snape before, during, and, if time permitted, after meetings. He always responded in short snippets.
On the second Order meeting after she'd stopped paying so much attention to Sirius and Remus, Snape and Tonks' conversations grew by mere seconds. His words were longer, not so rushed. He began to speak as he sometimes did in class - as if he enjoyed the words in his mouth. She considered this an accomplishment of sorts. He didn't rush to end his "Hello" and his "Good evening," which she felt allowed for more words in between.
There were two instances to occur before she took it upon herself to leave him breakfast.
The first being when she managed to wipe the dust off the part of his vocal chords that produced what sounded like a short and stifled chuckle when she reamed into Sirius for his mocking of her.
The second being when she wasn't feeling well. She'd been on the job for 36 hours: no sleep and little food had caught up with her at the meeting. She tried her best to seem perky by using some pepper-up potion she had stashed in her bag, when she rushed in late to Grimmauld place, but it always had its odd side-effects.
Sitting across from her at the meeting, he cocked his head slightly at her late arrival. Being late was quite out of character for her.
He then tapped his head with one of his long fingers, as if he was tapping at instructions to a potion.
She glanced up at the bangs falling slightly in her face to see her hair was a very light, almost faded pink. She knew, this coloring was from her exhaustion and the interaction of the potion, which caused a physiological reaction in that it lessened whatever color her hair currently was. Usually, however, no one seemed to notice, as it wasn't that noticeable.
She looked back down at him. His face hiding a slight concern. She shrugged and sighed. Trying to communicate her exhaustion. He seemed to understand and nodded before saying, "Professor Dumbledore, can we start already? Some of us here have jobs and important things to do that don't involve licking our balls or scratching our fleas." He narrowed his eyes over at Sirius.
Tonks stifled a small snort. Snape looked at her from the corner of his eye and began to brief the Order on his information concerning Voldemort.
Chapter 5: Nothing Is Simple. Nothing Is Easy.
She mulled all this over in her mind and she sat on her bed in her small flat. She'd just gotten home from work, and she'd just finished showering: Running the past few months over in her mind, the summer now fading quickly into fall. The Order meetings weren't as frequent now that the school year and patrols had begun at Hogwarts, but there was one tonight, and he would be there. He'd arrive mere minutes before the meeting began, unless, of course, he was busy doing something for Voldemort. Her sadness deepened. She didn't like to think about what he did or what he had to do for Voldemort. She preferred to think of him at Hogwarts: grouchy, tired, and sarcastic, up to his eyes in dreadful papers to grade; that was a much more pleasant thought.
She didn't mean to fall in love with him. Did anyone ever mean to fall in love? She just wanted to make him happy. Did anyone ever do anything for him, she often wondered. He'd spent so much of his life doing the bidding of other people. She hardly thought that Voldemort or Dumbledore were overly gracious toward him; she doubted they did anything but be gracious. They certainly took him for granted. Tonks knew that Snape needed someone. She had nothing against him; she never had. Tonks' empathy was far greater than the average person. She understood why people acted the way they did, even if they acted in hurtful ways. People are, and will remain to be, complicated. Nothing is simple. Nothing is easy.
She didn't know how he felt about her. He seemed to enjoy her company to a small extent. He never pushed her away, and, for Snape, that was saying something.
He had grabbed her hand - for a moment. When he grabbed her hand and his calloused fingers wrapped around hers, she felt as if she wasn't breathing. She had looked over directly at him with surprise and, for a moment, wonder, but when she saw his head, hanging low, his eyes staring at the ground, she wasn't sure what to make of it, or what to make of him. She wasn't about to let go of his hand, and she studied him the entire time he held her. When he let go without having looked up at her once, she decided that she wasn't going to push the issue with him, and she left.
She'd done the heavy-lifting. She'd pushed herself on him in her own funny, annoyingly-cheerful, and sarcastically-nagging way. She'd opened the door to their friendship. She believed that, now, it was his job to work for her a little.
Tonks hamster-wheeled the night he held her hand in her head for two weeks. She still patrolled Hogwarts as usual, but she didn't go out of her way to find him: no unnecessary strolls to the dungeon. He didn't try to find her. He knew, if he had wanted to find her, where she was. She considered all the different ways that night could have gone. She could have done so many things, and yet she chose to be difficult, to not open herself up and reveal herself entirely to him. She needed to know what he wanted from her; she needed to know that he wanted her, too.
And, her she was, two weeks later and half an hour away from an Order meeting and seeing Severus Snape. She knew she needed to be early. She needed to be able to compose herself before she saw him.
She finally managed to get herself off of her bed. She dressed quickly in a pair of black leggings and a muggle band, The Smiths, t-shirt. She threw on a burgundy zip-up hoodie - the cooler weather was lending itself to her favorite comforting outfits. She found a pair of socks with mandrakes on them. The socks would start a muffled scream if your feet smelled too bad. She found these socks hilarious, and she was always quite careful not to wear older shoes. She found a newer pair of grey vans with golden stars that twinkled on them.
Her hair dried in a gentle but messy wave that she found perfectly acceptable. She wanted to look like herself, and even though she didn't feel like fixing her makeup, she knew that if she wanted to appear herself then she had to look like herself - eyeliner and all.
She finished getting ready quickly and stepped out of her flat, just in time to make it to the meeting and getting settled before he got there.
Chapter 6: A Natural Comfort
Are you fucking kidding me? He's here. Early. 10 minutes early. Or more. I'm 10 minutes early. How long has he been here? Why? Why is he here early? Is he here to see me? Does he want to see me? Is something wrong? Did something happen? Oh, for fucks sake. Dammit. If you'd just kept steadily flirting with Remus. He's a werewolf, but he's not nearly as complicated as Snape. Merlin. Okay. Just walk in the kitchen, Nymphadora. Walk. In. With. Your. Feet.
She saw him at the table in the kitchen the moment she walked in. She had to go in the kitchen. Molly was in there. She couldn't just arrive and not say "Hello" to Molly fucking Weasley.
Before she could muster the nerves to walk into the kitchen, she was pushed into the kitchen with a loud, "TONKS! MY GIRL. Where have you been? We've missed you. You haven't come over in ages. AGES. Molly, get this girl a Butterbeer. You can tell she needs one. The ministry working you like a dog, eh?" exclaimed, in one, slightly tipsy burst, Sirius.
"Ah. Yes. Well, at least I work, and I'm not just a ruddy dog" she replied with a nervous laugh.
"Oh, my dear. Don't be so hard on your cousin." Remus began, walking up behind her. Resting an arm casually around her shoulders. "He's just upset that next to you he looks like an actual dog. You look stunning as usual even for someone who is being over-worked. The Smiths, eh? They're that band we listened to on your wonky muggle record player, right?"
She felt Snape's eyes on her. There it was. Something that made her stomach lurch. There was evidence that she spent time, at her flat, with Remus. His arm around her felt like lead. Did she like Remus? Yes, she did, but he wasn't Snape. There was something there with Snape that wasn't there with Remus. A natural comfort. She found that amusing to admit to herself. Snape and natural comfort didn't usually belong in the same vein of thought, but there it was. In all the time she'd spent alone with him she felt herself, and she felt a sense of belonging and home. With Remus she felt a bit like she was having to put on something or having to hide something about herself.
She shrugged his arm off of her and glanced nervously at Snape. "Yep. That's the band, although it's not as if their obscure Remus. Lots of wizards listen to The Smiths. Morrissey is a fucking wizard after all. He just, you know, likes to be around muggles now."
She wanted to make it out as if listening to The Smiths with Remus hadn't meant anything to her that it was something she would have shared with Hermione and Ginny when they were having a girls' night. Sharing The Smiths with Remus wasn't like sharing things she'd shared with Snape. She needed Snape to know that.
"But, yes, Molly. If you have a butterbeer, or, perhaps, something stronger, I'd love something. I don't know if I can spend the rest of my night around these two and not need something."
Molly along with Sirius and Remus laughed at her joke, but she wasn't at all kidding. She felt sick. She wanted to talk to Snape. She wanted to be sitting on the couch in his quarters, and she wanted to know if she'd ever be there with him again.
Kingsley walked in three sips into her mead. Molly took her up on the "something stronger." Remus and Sirius were fussed over by Molly. Snape still sat at the kitchen table - studying his hands.
"Let's go ahead and get started, shall we?" Kingsley asked.
Molly, Remus, and Sirius filed out of the kitchen. Tonks downed the rest of her mead, and she walked over to counter to put her glass down. By the time her glass clinked against the counter top, she and Snape were alone in the kitchen.
She heard his chair scrape against the floor, and she heard his boots take a few steps towards the door. She whirled around from the counter, and their eyes met. Her heart was in her throat. Her arms felt numb. His dark eyes sank into her own light ones. She thought of Occlumency and diverted her eyes to the floor. She didn't want him seeing anything that might make things worse. There were a lot of things in her mind she didn't want him seeing at the moment.
Snape was immediately taken aback by her when she walked in tonight. He, like her, wanted to be there when she walked in. He wanted to observe her. He didn't expect that seeing her for the first time in two weeks, seeing her somewhere other than his own living quarters, seeing her out of their element, seeing her at all would be so difficult.
But there she was, thrust into the kitchen by that idiot cousin of hers. He could see her annoyance in her eyes, covered by put-on cheer and forced laughter. He was happy to see that. What pleased him the most, however, was that he could tell she was nervous.
There was once, on one of the nights they were in his rooms, where she wore a simple white v-neck shirt. It was very unTonks as it didn't bear the image or words of some band or sports team. It quickly became his favorite shirt of hers. Not because he could see the swell and curvature of her breasts within the cut of the neckline, but because he could see her chest, her collar bones, and the crook of her neck, all of which, when flustered, which she was often around him due to their constant banter, these parts of her body flushed into a beautiful pink hue. She was so good at seeming cool and calm and witty when they argued, but her skin often gave her away. She was nervous around him, something they both seemed to enjoy, but something she was very good at hiding.
And tonight, while he couldn't see her chest due to her t-shirt, he could see soft red splotches on her neck, and he could see, when she tucked her hair behind her ear, that her ears were a bright burning red.
What surprised him the most was how he felt when she walked in. While pleased to see her, he felt sick and lonely. They weren't friends. They weren't talking. He knew, of course, this was partially his fault, but she'd started all this. If she wanted to make something of it, then she should finished what she set out to do.
His stomach lurched at the idea of her being alone with Remus, but he wasn't stupid; he wasn't naive to this. She was beautiful. Remus was handsome despite his ragged and distressed look. They seemed to get along. Why wouldn't they spend time together? After all, she'd spent so much time with him, why did he think she wasn't spending time with someone else, someone more worthy of her.
Worthy of her? What was he even thinking?
They were just friends. There was nothing more there. She was a former student, a fellow Order member, and, most of all, she was a fucking Hufflepuff. All her actions, in his mind, had to be seen through that lens. This is what Hufflepuffs do. He thought about Professor Sprout and how she, too, made it a point to try and take care of him on occasion - typically with food, not conversation and intellectual debates and biting sarcasm, but it was the same thing.
Tonks had believed he needed a friend, and she'd been just that. He'd mucked things up by grabbing her hand. He wasn't supposed to touch her. That was Remus' job. He felt anger sweetly swell in his belly at the memory of Remus with his arm so casually, so comfortably around her.
He was happy to feel the anger. It was familiar. He knew what to do with it.
Chapter 7: In Your Otherwise Shitty and Dreadful Existence
He began to walk towards the door at the same time, from a different angle, as she. When she reached the door before he did, he quickened his pace and reached his hand out to hold the door shut.
They were very close to one another.
She looked up at him. At 5'4, he was a little under a foot taller than her. He looked down his nose at her, "Is your self-esteem so low, that you have to toy around with an old, poor, werewolf, Nymphadora? Are you that desperate for attention that you not only have to hang around with me, a Death Eater, but a werewolf, too? Is Sirius …"
And before he could finish what he was saying, she gently moved his arm from the door - he was putting surprisingly little pressure there - and she walked out of the room.
The door shut behind her as she entered the dining room, and she took a seat between Kingsley and Arthur Weasley. "Phew. I'm sorry that took a bit. It's much harder to chug mead now than it was a few years ago. I'm out of practice, I suppose." She laughed chummily alongside her fellow Ministry colleagues.
Snape sulked into the dining room a few seconds later and sat at the other end of the table by Professor McGonagall.
"Alright, so, here's what we know so far…"
And an hour long meeting began full of debriefing and prophesying and some arguing between Sirius and Snape, as usual. Tonks tried her best to pay attention, to remain calm, and to do her job.
When the meeting ended, Snape was tied up in a discussion with Dumbledore about Umbridge. McGonagall had gone back to Hogwarts. Molly and Arthur had left. Remus was on his way out, telling Tonks to be in touch. Sirius, having had too much to drink, was making his way up to his room. The rest of the Order leaving as so.
Tonks began to walk out. She stopped in the library to grab a book she'd been wanting to borrow from Sirius. Not long after she'd been in there, perusing the shelves. Snape walked by. He spotted her. He stopped. He kept walking.
She rounded away from the shelves and began to walk out of the library as quickly as she could. She caught him still in the dark hallway.
She could only see his back, but he knew that she was there.
"Fuck you. You bastard."
He turned slowly, staring at her, his eyes pulsing with anger.
"I'm afraid. I don't typically waste my energies on leftover scraps from werewolves."
She stepped closer to him. Inches away from him. Her chest heaving hotly with anger, mere inches away from him - his chest calm, angering her more.
She looked up at him, "Don't you dare speak to me that way."
"Why should you care how I choose to speak you?"
"I thought I fucking mattered to you. I thought I was more than just another imbecile for you to scrutinize and scowl at it."
"Then you should choose your associations more wisely, Miss Tonks."
"What I do in my own time and with whom I spend it with is none of your fucking business, Professor. What, Professor? Are you jealous? Are you feeling threatened? Is that why you're attacking me? I'm not the one who has been hiding away in the dungeons for two weeks."
"I haven't been hiding. I am where I always am - where I live and where I work. Not once have I sought you out and intruded on you at your home or at your work. I suppose it's ideal that I didn't, as I would have probably happened upon you and professor Lupin listening to whatever idiotic muggle music you choose to ridiculously fawn over."
"Oh! For the sake of Merlin! Intrusion? " She flew her arms up in exasperation, hitting his chest lightly with her fingers by accident. "I may have sought you out, but don't you even pretend like I haven't put the slightest hint of happiness in your otherwise shitty and dreadful existence."
She paused to examine him. In her flurry of frustration, she'd moved closer to him. It was remarkable that they weren't touching chest-to-chest. His breathing was so irritatingly calm. His face smooth and almost serene, as if, to some extent, he was enjoying her anger.
And he was. He'd always enjoyed getting her riled up in one of their late-night conversations. She grew flustered. Her hand movements chaotic and grand. It was, for Snape, a most enjoyable sight. To be at the forefront of her anger was delightful and dreadful, to him it was a sincere form of emotion, a true expression of how she felt about him - it was evident she cared for him in some capacity; he wasn't at all sure why, but it was clear now.
She let out a groan of frustration, and continued on: "If I'm so ridiculous, then why did you keep letting me in, huh? Why let me stay up with you for hours on end? Why not shut me out and shut me down like you do to everyone else?"
She pushed up slightly on to her toes. She took her hands and placed them cautiously and gently on either side of his face, cupping his chin slightly. She pulled on him gently, and he allowed his body to move with her. His body hunched down some, lowering slightly to meet her in the middle of their height difference.
She lowered her voice to a low, raspy whisper, her eyes swelling slightly, and she began to finish, "Because I'm not just fucking anyone else and neither are you, but you're too cowardly to admit that."
Upon those words, cowardly, in particular Snape grabbed Tonks by her hips. Her full, soft hips he'd been longing to touch underneath her soft cotton leggings. He pulled her to him, closing the small gap. He lowered himself the few inches that their faces we apart, and he kissed her. He felt her breath quake and shutter as he brushed his lips against her. Her lips warm with her anger; his cool with his calmness.
He pulled away within seconds, he examined her face, avoiding her eyes - fearful that her thoughts would spill out into him without intending so. He saw, even in the dark hallway, her flushed neck. He was looking for permission.
Tonks took it upon herself to answer. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. She parted her mouth slightly and took his bottom lip in between her soft, plump lips. He responded by doing the same to her and sucking on her bottom lip before running his tongue against her lip and then into her mouth. She caressed his tongue with hers and let out a soft moan, as he grabbed her hips harder, pulling her tightly against him so her chest was pressed into his, so she could feel his breathing as it sped up for the first time all evening.
Tonks pulled away briefly from him. She ran her left thumb against his temple while the other hand rested upon his shoulder. She pushed up on her toes to kiss him once more when a silver lynx pounced into the hallway. The lynx stood beside her and pawed at her foot.
"That's…" she began, dropping both her hands to her sides, reaching down with one hand to scratch the lynx behind one of its ears.
"Kingsley's. I know. You are needed. Go." He stepped back from her and to the side, leaving her a path for the door.
She twisted her hands together, bounced up and down twice on the balls of her feet. "I'll be on patrol as usual tomorrow. 8:30. I'll be done with my rounds by 9," she said with rapidity and a newly discovered nervousness and excitement.
"I'll be around."
She nodded taking this as an invitation, albeit thinly veiled, to see him tomorrow night.
"Goodnight, Professor" she said with tease and a grin.
He nodded, furrowing his brow, and pursing his lips together in a half-frown half-smile.
With that she turned and walked down the hallway and out the door and into the crisp fall evening to find Kingsley and whatever the Ministry needed from them at this hour.
Snape remained in the hallway, replaying the events in his head. He knew this couldn't possibly end well for either of them, but he felt somewhat happy, for what was the first time in years.
When she was around him, she brought something with her, something other than herself. She bounded in with an orb that pulsed life into him; when she was gone, small specks of glow floated in and around him for a time after she left, but they, too, dissipated and he, once again, found himself in the darkness.
He knew the next morning, as he prepared to face another day, he'd be worried, unsure, and fraught with it all, but right now, she was still around him. He could smell her perfume against him; he could taste mint and lemon on his lips and against his tongue. She was all around him still, and he would enjoy it - even if it was fleeting.
Later that evening, well-past midnight, Tonks laid in her bed and, finally, allowed herself to think about what had happened in the hallway with Snape.
She thought of how his body felt pressed against hers; how she could smell the faint scent of some lingering potion mixed with sandalwood. How her fingers found their way into his hair. How he kept his hands planted firmly on her hips - pressing his fingers harder into her skin at times, adjusting his hands, but keeping them restricted to her hips, as if he wouldn't allow himself to touch her anywhere else.
She needed to see him, before his thoughts settled into him. It was 2 in the morning, she knew that there was a good chance he'd be awake, he didn't have classes on Friday, and, if he wasn't awake then what was the harm? She'd go see him tomorrow. She couldn't, at this hour, go to Hogwarts without it raising suspicion. She cast her Patronus: a small, silvery rabbit bounced out of her wand. She gently stroked the rabbit's fur, "If he's awake, make it known it need to see him. If he's asleep, curl up next to him and keep him company. Thank you."
She wondered how long, if he chose to come and if he was awake, it would take him to get to her home.
Snape had been lying on his coach in his living quarters. He was attempting to sleep, but it was evading him. He often fell asleep on the couch after a late night meeting or grading papers, and so, he found it more comforting and less lonely. He felt he might be close to sleep, and decided to get up to use the loo, so he wasn't awoken in half an hour with a throbbing bladder.
On his way back to the couch, he saw the small rabbit, curled up on the middle cushion. The rabbit was not asleep, merely resting and watching him as he strode back into his living room. When he sat down on the couch, the rabbit bounded up and began to bounce around in the air, after a few minutes of showiness the rabbit hopped back onto the couch and stared at him.
"You belong to Tonks."
It wasn't a question, Snape had never seen her Patronus but he knew no one else who would cast something so small and excited, but the rabbit hopped excitedly to confirm that she did belong to Tonks.
Snape reached out and stroked the rabbits head gently.
"Are you here to keep me company?"
The rabbit hopped off the couch and towards the door – hopping incessantly towards Snape and back towards the door.
"Does she want me to come see her?"
The rabbit hopped some more.
"She could have just sent an owl. It would have been a lot clearer than sending you. For fucks sake, she should have just come her herself."
He sighed. He was still dressed in black slacks and black t-shirt. He threw on a light jacket, he grabbed his cloak first, but he wasn't sure how wizard friendly her flat was and thought better of it. He, again, sighed heavily, unsure and questioning whether to follow her rabbit. He stood still at the door, watching the rabbit bounced and bound around him.
He couldn't help but smirk at how her Patronus was just as adorable and annoying as her, and with that, he followed the rabbit out the door and outside to Hogsmeade where he could apparate to her. Knowing she had served her purpose, the rabbit quickly dissipated, leaving Snape with his curiosity as he walked.
Chapter 9:
Tonks lie in her bed still, Snape knew where she lived; he'd been here once before with Kingsley. It had only been a few seconds, but it was enough to allow him to apparate here.
About half an hour later, Tonks, still wide-awake, was pleasantly surprised to see her Patronus take formation in her bedroom. The rabbit bounced jovially a few times before dissipating entirely. Tonks could only take this to mean one thing, and she felt her heart dip into her stomach, and her earlier nerve shatter into shambles of worry.
What if he's coming here to put an end to all this? To tell me that kissing me was a mistake? What if I should have just waited to see him tomorrow after patrol? Shit. Did I just bugger it up? But, what if he's coming here for the reason I wanted him to? Oh God. I look dreadful. Fuck. Fuck. Fu..
Midthought, Tonks heard a familiar popping sound in her living room.
Snape looked around her dimly lit flat. It was very Tonks. There were books and records lining the walls. Plush pillows and blankets. Plants all over the place. Such a Hufflepuff, he thought.
As he examined her living room, she stepped out of a room off to his right. He saw her through the crack in the door before she came into view.
She was wearing a worn-in white t-shirt, he assumed of some band he didn't know. It hung loosely on her body now, but it clearly fit her well at one point in time as it was still snug in some areas. The shirt clung around the swell of her breasts, and he noticed the weight of them, without a bra, underneath the shirt. He felt a small stir in the pit of his stomach at this new look of her body. He trailed his eyes lower to find she was wearing shorts - they looked to be the material of the leggings she often wore. They clung to her thighs and stopped four or so inches above her knee. He saw, for the first time, her naked calves which had a soft curve to them. He couldn't help but wonder about how the rest of her legs looked bare. He stopped his thoughts, as he wasn't sure if that was why he was there.
She stepped out of the doorway and leaned up against the inside of the door frame. Her right shoulder pressing against it. She said nothing - out of nerves, out of fear of the babble that would come spewing out. She wanted him to speak first, to make clear to her what his intentions were.
He watched her for a moment longer - observing her.
All at once, he felt overwhelmed by her, enthralled with her. If he kissed her, the worst she could do was tell him no, and they would go back to being friends. He'd been content being her friend, he didn't have to have more.
He walked over and stepped in front of her. She straightened a little, no long leaning against the frame - now just standing on the threshold between her living room and her bedroom.
He grabbed her by her hips, pulling her body close to his. Her arms still hanging unsure and nervous by her side. Tonks wasn't a nervous lover, she was confident and sure of herself, but with him, at this moment, she felt timid. He was so complicated; she had to know he needed her. With one hand on her hip, he moved his other to her cheek, and with that he bent down and kissed her. It was greedier than before. He sucked and bit on her lips, and she returned the greediness with enthusiasm - nipping him back.
After what only felt like a few seconds, but had been much longer, he pulled away from her. He searched her eyes, they were bright and filled him with a sense of excitement he hadn't felt in at least a decade.
"Is this why you sent your annoying Patronus to me?" He curled his fingers into her hair. "Is this what you want?" he asked in a low whisper, their mouths inches apart.
She opened her mouth to speak but no words seemed to form, she looked up at him and with a nod stammered, "Uh-huh".
It was all the affirmation he needed feel her lips against his once more.
He eyed her again taking in this new physical way he was seeing her. Her lips were parted, plump, and slightly swollen. Her hair was disheveled; pink strands falling across her forehead. He thought of how flushed her chest must be and he wondered how far the flush went down, did it spread through her cleavage, leaving pink and red tones across her belly. He felt his cock stir at the thought of her naked body, warm and blushing from her response to him.
He must've been staring for some time. She broke his gaze. "What?" she asked with a slight laugh in her voice.
"Nothing." He said with a slight shake of his head.
"Nothing?"
He shrugged. Moving one of his hands through his hair, the other placed still at her hip. "It's just remarkable to have you here. I'm not even sure what to say.
"Well, you're a smart man, Severus. Use words and go from there."
He glanced down at her again and looked cross at her.
"When you've wanted something for so long, and then it's just here, right in front of you. It's interesting."
"Interesting, eh?" she said and cocked her head to the side, leaning it up against her door frame.
"To say the very least."
Feeling surer of herself, she pulled away from him, grabbing one of his hands and leading him to her bed.
When he walked into her bedroom, he could smell the soft scent of lavender.
It was brighter in here from the lights, he could see her better. He could see how her worn-out t-shirt was close to see-through. He could see that, despite the hour, she didn't look even remotely tired. She looked very awake and she looked luminous.
He sat down at the edge of her bed, her hand still in his. He pulled her over to him. Her body standing in between his legs. He looked up at her as she placed her hands on his shoulders and bent down to kiss him.
His hands moved over her hips and down towards her ass. He cupped her cheeks into his hands, and he let out a soft groan of appreciation. She smiled amidst their kiss and ran her fingers into his hair.
His hands worked their way up her ass to her waist, his fingers sliding underneath the hem of her shirt. He took his time; he was a man who appreciated. He also didn't want to admit to himself that this may never happen again. He wanted her and himself to enjoy every second of it. He wasn't going to rush through it like a younger man would.
He slid his fingers up and down the curve of her hips, along her waist, and the sides of her ribs, avoiding touching her breasts, though he could feel the soft movement of them when she'd take a sharp breath in reaction to his touch or in reaction to his tongue against her or her bottom lip between his teeth.
He trailed his fingers underneath her breasts and across her belly, down her hip bones to the top of her shorts. He moved his lips to her neck and left gentle nips there. He kissed her lips softly and he moved a hand to her breast, cupping the heaviness in his hand, running his thumb across her hardened nipple. At his touch, Tonks sighed with release, as if she'd been needing him to touch her.
Pulling her shirt over her head, Tonks momentarily broke their kiss and stepped back slightly. She tossed her shirt to the floor and ran her thumbs under the tops of her shorts. Snape was far too early enamored with admiring her naked chest and belly to, at first, notice that she'd taken off her shorts. She pushed them down to her feet and kicked them off to the side, in what was her most graceful manner – stumbling as she did so.
He smirked at her and she reposed herself in between his legs. She wore nothing now but a light green lace underwear. He could see a soft patch of light brown curls beneath the lace. He thought to take a jab at why her pubic hair wasn't pink, too, but thought he'd save it for later.
His eyes bore into every inch of her body.
"You're doing it again, Severus."
"What?"
"Just staring. Quiet. Almost solemn."
"I am certainly not solemn, woman. Don't get on about that."
"You look quite gloomy."
"This is how I always look."
At that she laughed. She threw her head back slightly. Her breasts bounced deliciously as she laughed, and he found that he couldn't keep himself from touching her.
He grabbed her again. Wrapped one arm around her waist and pulled her to him. He kissed her collarbone, her chest, and planted kisses over the tops of her breast. He moved the hand around her waist down to grab her ass and he took a nipple into his mouth. It puckered immediately against his tongue and his licked and sucked on her nipple. Tonks, one hand on his forearm, the other on his neck, pushed him against her, moving her body warmly into his, keeping his mouth on her breasts.
He pulled her down so she was sitting on his lap before pushing her back onto the bed.
"Scooch back."
Tonks laughed.
Snape sighed, "What?"
"Nothing. It's just a funny word to hear you say."
He let out another heavy breath and narrowed his eyes.
"Move back, dammit, so I can see what bizarre stupid color your pubic hair is."
Again, she laughed. She moved her body back throwing her head bed back onto her pillow. She brought her arms up to her chest to cover her breasts while she laughed.
As her laughter settled, she propped herself up on elbows slightly. She took her hand and motioned to her pelvis. "I typically keep it a bright neon green, but I thought you'd prefer something more subtle."
"So, you've given thought as to what I prefer your pubic hair to look like?'
She smiled and shrugged. "A time or two, yes."
He nodded, positioning himself over her on the bed. Again, he kissed her lips, feeling as if he could kiss them all night, moving to her neck and chest and down her belly.
Her nerves kicking in again, she felt the need to be talk.
Propping herself up again she said, "I'm half-naked. Do you plan on taking any of your clothes off, Severus?"
He pulled his head up and glanced at her - slightly annoyed and slightly amused. Without saying a word he leaned up on his knees and pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor.
She seemed satisfied with this and she relaxed back again.
He kissed his way down to her hip bones. She moaned softly as he kissed her body. His fingers touched the trim of the lace and he hooked his fingers underneath the ban of her underwear. He pulled them down slightly to kiss her hip bones better - trailing them with his tongue and sucking on her skin.
He kissed the heat between her thighs - thinly covered by the lace material, pleased by the wetness soaking through. She took in a sharp breath at the feeling of his mouth.
His fingers, still entwined in underwear, he pulled them down. He sat up; she propped her knees up, and allowed him to slide them up and then down her legs.
He ran his hands up her calves and rested them on her knees. With his hands on her knees, she let her legs fall open.
He bent down and placed his arms around her upper thighs, holding her in place. He started slowly; he gently kissed her inner thighs, he nipped, and listened to her moans and her breaths, gauging what she enjoyed. She seemed to enjoy the biting; he made a mental note of this.
Snape loved a woman's body - the softness, the warmth, the sweet subtle smell. He especially loved Tonks body. Her thighs were thick and soft and had a certain sense of power within them; he could tell they were stronger than some people's legs. He enjoyed how they felt against his arms and hands. He knew he would enjoy them wrapped around his waist as he thrusted into her, but for now he enjoyed having them so close to his face, keeping him close to her warm, wet, very wet, he thought, center.
He kissed her soft mound of light brown hair first, realizing then that the scent of lavender he smelled earlier was her, it was from her soap. He continued down and kissed her clit; he kissed her slit.
He glanced up at her. Her eyes shut. Her chest rising rapidly.
He opened his mouth and ran his tongue from her wet slit up to her clit. He let his tongue softly work over her sweet bundle of nerves. Her hips twitched, and she gasped. Moving back down to her opening, he slipped his tongue inside her as he moved up and down her wetness - tasting her becoming more excited. Her hips ground against his tongue, begging for him to give her more. He tightened his grip on her hips to keep her still. He lapped at her and began to suck on her lips and then on her clit, taking them into his mouth with intensity. Her moans grew louder and her breathing was staggered. One of her hands found his on her thighs, and she grabbed it. Digging her fingers into his as she bucked her hips against his face.
He let go of one if her legs, and slid two of his fingers along her warmth while he continued to lick and suck on her clit.
"Oh fuck," she breathed, and, with that, he slid his two fingers into her and began to pump them inside her.
She felt as if she was about to unravel. He continued to work her, curving his fingers far back inside her, pulsing them in her extra-sensitive area.
Listening to her breathing and her louder moans and whimpers, he sucked harder on her clit as he pumped and curved his fingers deep into her, until he felt her come undone into his mouth and in his arms. Her thighs shuddered delightfully and her hips tried to escape his mouth on her sensitive sex. He kept her as still as he could, softly licking and kissing her pussy, gently caressing her thigh with his other hand.
As her body relaxed, he unhooked his other hand from around her hip. He kissed her hip bone, her belly, and he slid up next to her in her bed kissing her softly on the mouth, pulling away to look at her in wonder. She put her arms around his neck and kissed him, pulling him closer to her again.
She pressed her naked body against him. She pushed her thigh against his legs and she felt his hard cock on her hip bone. Moving a hand from him neck she began to caress his body. She rubbed his shoulders and arms, raked her nails gently across his chest and down his abdomen.
With a gentle push on his shoulders, he laid on his back. Propping herself up on her knees, she climbed down in between his knees. She admired his form beneath her as her fingers undid his belt buckle and as her hands pulled off his slacks. She leaned over him, her knees pressing against his thighs, her breasts and nipples rubbing against his chest as she kissed his neck, moving her lips up his neck and to his ear. He groaned deeply as she sucked on the lobe of his ear.
He couldn't keep his hands off of her, feeling the form and shape of her body bent over him. Reaching down with one hand, leaving her lips to enjoy his neck and ear, she softly cupped his balls - massaging them beneath her fingers. She enjoyed gauging his reaction to her attentions on him. Everything she did seemed to please him. This amused her as she didn't think anyone would suspect Snape to be so easily pleased, and pleasing, she thought, in bed.
Propping her body back up on her knees, continuing to massage him with one hand, she took his length in her other. She made eye contact with him and smile slightly as she began to stroke and tug on his cock.
Snape couldn't have imagined a better sight before him. She was naked between his legs. Her hands full of him. Sitting back on her feet now, he had a full view of her wide, thick hips and thighs, her small waist, her arms pushing her breasts together - them jiggling slightly as she continued to feel him. Her legs were apart and he could see her sweet pink pussy glistening from just moments before - from something he had given to her. He felt such a sense of euphoria in that moment that he was certain it must be a hallucination, some trick being pulled over on him.
He had been lost in his thoughts of concern just long enough to miss her movements: her knees sliding back; her back arching in a way the propped her ass up in the air; her head bending low.
He tossed all thoughts of this being anything other than glorious to the side the moment she flattened her tongue and ran it from the base of his shaft to the head of his cock - moving her tongue across the top of and around the top before sucking the head of his cock into her mouth. She let it go gently with a slight pop; he didn't want her mouth to leave him. She grabbed him in her right hand and tugged on him, moving her mouth to his balls. She licked and sucked on them, taking them gently into her warm mouth, listening to his rapid breathing and deep groans. His hands found her hair and he entangled his fingers there, pulling on her hair slightly.
Moving back to his cock, she, without hesitation, took him into her mouth. Running her tongue against his length as she moved up and down, pausing just slightly to show his head a bit more attention. As she sucked on his cock, she worked her hand simultaneously. She could feel his body tense with excitement, and she slowed her pace. Pulling her mouth away entirely and only using her hand to please him.
She positioned her body so she was arched over him. She was straddling his hips, her hand still rubbing his cock.
Knowing what she wanted to happen, she placed her hands lightly on his chest and bent down to kiss him. He grabbed her instantly and kissed her deeply. As his tongue caressed hers, she could feel his cock bobbing questioningly and greedily against her hot and throbbing pussy.
She broke their kiss, but their lips remaining centimeters apart.
In a low, husky voice she whispered, "I need you. I need to be yours."
Without response and without hesitation he slipped himself into her. She let out a guttural groan into his mouth as he entered her and began to pump his hips into hers.
She kissed him roughly as he pushed into her. Trying not to think or anything except what was exactly happening. She wanted to remember the way his body felt against hers, the way his lips tasted, the groans he made, and the look of intensity in his eyes.
It seemed as if they both knew that this might happen ten more times or it might not ever happen again. The world was too tumultuous for the both of them to know what to expect the next day.
She rested her hands against his chest, his hands on her hips. He was completely inside her. She sat proudly and confidently on him, looking down at him, her teeth between her lips, her hair falling into her eyes. Pushing up on her feet, she began to ride him. Slowly to start at first, moving her pussy up to the tip of his cock, almost pulling him out of her, before sliding back down onto him. Her eyes fluttered shut as she came down and felt the length of him inside her. Her bottom lip was released from her teeth, as her mouth formed an o-shape as she began to pant and moan.
Snape didn't shut his eyes; he couldn't. He couldn't stop admiring her - her hair, changing shades of pink slightly as she rode him; her life puffy and red, and the glorious sounds they made; her soft, round breasts bouncing as she began to slam her body onto him.
Tonks' wanted to make him cum. She wanted to make him cum as much as she had wanted to make him laugh a few months ago. From the grip he had on her hips, she suspected that making him cum would be a lot easier than making him laugh.
He had to keep his hands on her hips, his fingers sinking into her skin. It was the only way he could maintain any sense of composure, otherwise he would have exploded into her ages ago.
She bent down over him, her arms resting against his shoulders, her breasts in his face. Rocking her hips back onto his cock, she felt his lips graze her collarbone, as his hands gathered up her breasts, rolling her nipples between his fingers, tugging on them. This sent her body into waves of delight. Her movements slowed as she orgasmed; he felt her hips quake against him, her thighs shudder and tighten against his hips; her moans breathy. He ran his hands to her waist, he pumped up into her as she came, aiding in the intensity of her orgasm. As her orgasm slowed, she pushed down onto him, insisting on continuing; insisting that he cum under her doing. Bending down again, she rested her face close to his, her lips grazing his ear. She arched her back, and began to pump her hips quickly, moaning loudly as she felt the aftershocks of her two orgasm pulsing through her sensitive pussy.
Her wet lips against his skin, the moans in his ear, the slickness and heat off her sweetness, the intensity that she rode his cock, it was simply all too much.
"Please. Fill me up. I need you to make me yours," she whispered into his ear.
Even if he hadn't wanted to cum right then, he wouldn't have had a choice.
He clung to her hips and her waist, as he unraveled.
He kissed her sweetly, as she rolled off of him, pulling the covers up over them both. She rested her head on his chest. Neither of them spoke.
Chapter 10:
At some point, Tonks dozed off; Snape, however, didn't. He lie there awake memorizing the warmth of her body, the scent of her hair, her soft breath against his skin; how she felt tucked into his arms. He would later take it all and put it in his Pensieve – along with all of his other memories involving her.
He knew he had been foolish to let her in at all, but she'd been so persistent and so, well, addictive to him. He couldn't help but find himself wanting more of her all the time; he never had to seek her out, she always found her way to him at the right time. She made him happy, and it was easy for him to forget around her – forget his task, forget his role in the war. Tonks, he know, could survive this. She could come out of the war unscathed. She would suffer; they all would suffer, but she would suffer more at his hand if they continued to be involved.
In the early hours of the morning, Snape slipped out from her bed. In the threshold of her bedroom door, he glanced back at her. She was beautiful and smart, but she was also odd and witty and full of small quirks and eccentricities. She'd find someone; she'd be fine. She'd be better without him. The events that would inevitably conspire would turn her against him, and, so, he thought, he might as well begin here.
He walked into her living room. He quietly perused her shelves of books and records. He didn't want to do this. He was hoping she'd wake up. She'd come out and make him forget why he was doing what he was doing – that he'd lose himself in her again.
She didn't. She slept on. He apparated and went back to his lonely existence.
She awoke not long after he'd left. She eyed the empty side of her bed where he had been. She knew that this was going to happen. She knew he would leave without a word. She looked up at her ceiling – tears swelling in her eyes and spilling over onto her cheeks – dampening her hair and her pillow.