Author's Note: This one-shot is a coda to an earlier work of mine: Summer of '96. If you've read that one, thanks! I hope you enjoyed it. Much of this should make sense to you. If not, you're probably still okay. In any event, please enjoy:
Summer of '98: Two Years Later
For a friend who could use a lift
"Well, this is awkward," Harry thought as he looked at the place cards at his table. He wasn't going to come to this banquet, but Kingsley assured him that without his presence there wasn't much need for a banquet, and wouldn't it be nice for society as a whole if there were a banquet to celebrate the demise of Voldemort. So, there he was, seated directly between Hermione and -
"Tonks," Harry said, trying to feign enthusiasm. "How've you been?"
"Still here. Alive and kicking," the currently pink-haired Auror replied. "It's been awhile, love. You're looking good; hero becomes you."
"Right. Nothing like a succession of near-death experiences to bring out that - how did Witch Weekly put it? - That 'effortless joie-de-vivre'? Do you think they even know what that means?"
"Doubtful. Personally, I'd have gone for 'playfully unkempt,' but what do I know?"
Playful banter turned into heavy silence as Hermione, Ron, Neville, and Professor McGonagall (who preemptively admonished the table to call her Minerva) joined them. Also at the table were placecards for Severus Snape, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, and Albus Dumbledore, who were to receive their Order of Merlin, First Class awards posthumously.
"So, er, Ginny," Tonks said to Harry, breaking the silence.
"Oh, right. That never really went anywhere. Kind of like you and Remus. We tried for a bit in sixth year, but -"
Tonks laughed. "Really, that sounds interesting and all, but I'm wondering why she isn't here. I heard she kept the school going as much as Longbottom did."
"Neville's not here for what they did for Hogwarts, he's here for killing Nagini," Hermione interjected, after the chuckling at Harry's faux pas subsided. "Ginny's going to be receiving a Second Class award, along with Luna and the other leaders of Dumbledore's Army."
"Ah, right," Tonks said, and the awkward silence continued.
There were speeches, there were more speeches, and those were followed by speeches. During the awards presentations, there were shorter speeches. Harry's ass had completely fallen asleep an hour and a half into the banquet, and he didn't see any end in sight. Finally, the awards had been presented, and desserts were summoned to the tables. Unfortunately for Harry, with the desserts came a long procession of well-wishers. And most of the well-wishers were young, female, and not much interested in conversation.
"Oh, Merlin, my stomach," Tonks exclaimed about 15 minutes into the line of women. "Oh, I don't think I'm going to make it."
"Tonks?" Harry asked. "Are you alright? Should I get a healer?"
"I don't think that pheasant sat too well with me, Harry. I'm going to be fine, but I should head home before this gets embarrassing."
"No, wait, let me help you," Harry said, jumping to his feet and taking Tonks by the elbow. "Er, folks? I have to see to my friend here. Cheers for the congratulations and all, and enjoy the rest of the banquet? Anyway, I'm sorry - we really have to go."
Harry guided a doubled-over Tonks to the Ministry floo network, and helped her into her house, where she promptly stood up and started chuckling.
"You're just fine, aren't you?" Harry said, quizzically.
"Got it in one, Potter," Tonks replied with a smirk. "Can't get anything past you, now, can we?"
"But why?" Harry asked. "Couldn't you have simply excused yourself? You didn't have to make a scene, did you?"
Tonks began to laugh. "Sometimes even the Boy-Who-Lived-Yet-Again needs a bit of rescuing, sweets. You can't honestly tell me you were having fun - you were dying in there. Most men in your position, of course, would have made dates with half of that lineup - especially that brunette in the Gryffindor colors, she had tits for days, mate."
"She was also nearly 30," Harry said, wishing he hadn't as soon as he did. Tonks, however, just chuckled.
"As I remember, you like your girls a bit more mature."
"That's not - I didn't mean it like that. I just -"
"It's fine," Tonks said, kissing his cheek gently. "I know what you meant. But, come now. We're young, gorgeous, dressed to kill, and it's only half past nine. What do you say we go see what kind of trouble we can get into?"
"We're also in robes," Harry answered. "And I'm not sure after our exit that we want to be seen about town in any Wizarding establishments."
Tonks thought about this a moment, and then, very visibly, an idea came to her.
"Oh, I know just the place. Trust me. I'll side-along you there."
Harry was either too worn out or too curious to argue, so he took her arm and off they went.
Harry was never good at magical travel, and the longer the distance, the worse he fared. By the time they landed on Hexenstraße in magical Köln, Tonks needed to hold him steady for a few moments, lest he collapse in the street.
"Germany? How in the nine hells did you apparate us to bloody Germany, Tonks?"
Tonks laughed. "It's not that hard, sweets. You've apparated to Hogsmeade before, haven't you? Well, Cologne is a lot closer than that. Remember, you don't have to take the Chunnel to get to the Continent when you apparate."
Harry just shook his head. "Right. Well, you did say to trust you. Lead on then, Tonks."
A block and a half from where they landed was Lorelei, a small, but seemingly popular Wizarding nightclub. The music wasn't like anything Harry had heard in English clubs - less bass, more synth - but the beat was still there, and the lightness in the music brought a smile to his war-worn face.
"Ach, du meine Gute! Tonks, aus England! Wie geht's, Schätzchen?"
"I'm fine, Klaus," Tonks said with a laugh. "My friend and I need a bit of fun this evening, but he's, well..." Tonks lifted the hair off of Harry's forehead, showing the doorman his scar.
Klaus straightened up immediately and grabbed Harry's hand, shaking it emphatically. "My sister is living in Manchester," he said. "Her husband is from Muggle-birth. You are our guest tonight, mein Herr, and you are welcome at Lorelei anytime you wish it."
Turning away from Harry and Tonks, he shouted into the doorway. "Heinrich! Unsere berühmte Ehrengäste brauchen das VIP-bereich. Zwei flaschen Sekt, und alles was die wollen. Und auch sehr starke desillusionieren."
"You will be taken care of this evening. Full discretion, with - how you say - hiding charms.
"Cheers, Klaus," Tonks said. "That's brilliant. We could both use a bit of fun."
"Of that, I am not wondering, my dear. Now go. Viel Spaß, you two. No worrying. Henrich will be taking good care of you."
Henrich, through much pointing and nodding, led them into a small room where he put a disillusionment charm on them both, and then brought them a portkey which took them up to a platform above the dance floor. There was a couch with two bottles of Veuve Cliqot in a champagne stand next to it, and a table with two flutes. An efficient woman who introduced herself as Ingrid took their top-cloaks, opened one of the bottles, and told them they were to call if there was anything they needed.
A few feet away was a private dance floor, and after they'd drained their glasses of champagne, Tonks stood up, transfigured her cassock so the hemline was halfway up her thighs, and dragged Harry off to dance. The music was easy to dance to, even without the strong bass to guide the beat, and the rapid tempos put a sheen of sweat on both of them quite quickly. Tonks's hair changed color with the music, vacillating between pink, blue, magenta, red, and green seemingly every four seconds. The lights were dizzying, the music was delightful, and Tonks was the most beautiful thing Harry had seen in two years.
Twenty minutes later, sporting a grin that stretched from ear to ear, Harry took Tonks by the hands and guided her back to the couch, where their champagne was back on ice. Ingrid refilled their flutes, and with a wave of her wand, the music surrounding them was lowered so that they could enjoy it and carry on a conversation.
"Tonks, this place is brilliant," Harry exclaimed. "Are the wizarding nightclubs like this back home, too?"
"Merlin, no, love," Tonks replied. "We don't have anything like this - we have to go muggle if we want good techno. The Continent is so much more up to date fashion-wise than Britain. But I wasn't expecting this kind of treatment; that's a perk of your fame. And don't you dare - enjoy it. You've more than earned it."
Harry wisely didn't argue the point, and the two of them fell into an easy silence, sipping champagne, watching the people dance below, and listening to the DJ.
"Your hair is still changing colors," Harry said after a few minutes. "It was doing that on the dance floor."
Tonks laughed. "Happens whenever I'm in a techno club - which isn't nearly as often as I'd like. My eyes do the same thing - look."
Harry looked, and yes, Tonks's eyes were changing color: brown to blue to green to black, sometimes a yellow. He'd missed her heart-shaped face, and the warm smile she wore matched his own. Harry reached for the side of her face, drew it close to him, and kissed her - softly at first, and then more deeply.
"Mmm. That was nice," Tonks said, smiling even more broadly. Harry nodded and kissed her again. Tonks then put one of Harry's arms around her shoulders and snuggled into him, where they sat as Ingrid came back around to fill their glasses.
"Ooh, Ingrid," Tonks said as she saw their hostess. "You know what I want? That schnapps that makes the funny colors - what is it, Farble-something?"
Ingrid smiled. "Farbenschnapps. Of course," she said, and five seconds later, two small glasses of brightly multi-colored liquor were floating towards the pair, along with a bottle for the table.
"Here, you do it like this, love," Tonks said. "Take a healthy sip - not too much, though, this stuff'll knock you arse over tits if you're not careful. Anyway, take a sip and swirl it around in your mouth. The different colors have different flavors; kind of like Bertie's Beans, but without the earwax and brussels sprouts."
"Ooh, that is nice," Harry said, after following Tonks's instructions. "Cinnamon, cherry, liquorice - that's brilliant. Did they make that just for you, my multi-colored friend?"
Tonks laughed a bit more loudly. "No, love. But they should've, what? Here, have another."
They shared a few more glasses, calling out flavors like "Apple!" and "Pomegranate!" and then Tonks snuggled back into Harry, both of them more than a little buzzed, just watching the people dance and listening to the music.
Harry wasn't quite sure how it happened, but Tonks had tilted her head away from him, and her earlobe suddenly looked like it needed to be nibbled. And Harry, not being one to turn away something in need, gave that earlobe a nibble, which earned him a playful slap on the chest and a kiss. Which was all well and good, but there was that earlobe again, so Harry had to do what he had to do. And that worked so well that he also took care of the kisses that needed to be placed on the crook of Tonks's neck. At this point, Tonks grabbed him by the lapels, kissed him forcefully, and pulled him on top of her on the couch. Five minutes and four untucked and unbuttoned garments later, there was a distinctive clearing of the throat, and Ingrid stood next to the couch, holding a television remote control.
"While we could certainly provide you with a bit more privacy, I am thinking you would be more comfortable in a room. Grab this - your cloaks have already been sent over."
Too tipsy and too randy to suss out what was happening, Tonks and Harry took the portkey, which placed them directly in the middle of a king-size bed. From there it didn't take either of them too long to figure out what their next steps would be, and an hour later, sweaty and satisfied, they fell asleep in each other's arms.
Eight hours later, a combination of a ray of sunlight fighting its way through the thick curtains, and the smell of strong European coffee woke Harry. It took him a minute to remember why he was in a king-size hotel room bed, why his head hurt, and why there was a very naked Tonks lying next to him with her half of the duvet tangled in her feet.
"Kreacher!" Harry whispered, trying not to wake the young auror.
"Yes, Harry?" Kreacher said, after he'd arrived three seconds later.
"I need you to get me a change of clothes and a toothbrush. And take these dress robes back with you."
"Would Harry like Kreacher to do the same thing with Miss Tonks's things?"
"Right, yeah, that'd be brilliant," Harry said, and he waited the 45 seconds necessary for Kreacher to leave, come back, and leave again, having completed his tasks. Harry then pulled a sumptuous terry cloth robe out of the closet, put it on, and walked out into what he discovered to be the living room of a palatial suite.
"I could get used to this," he thought with a smile, and levitated the carafe of coffee and two cups over to Tonks's side of the bed.
"Morning," he said, waking her with a kiss on the forehead. Tonks rolled over lazily and slowly opened her eyes. She had a bright, but sleepy smile pasted onto her face.
"Morning, love," she answered. "How'd you sleep? Oh - Oh Merlin. Is there a hangover potion somewhere in all that?"
"I didn't see one," Harry replied. "But I can have Kreacher bring one over, if you like. Krea-"
"Wait! Dammit, Harry, I'm not dressed."
Harry chuckled. "If he was going to catch an eyeful, he would've done so this morning. He brought you fresh clothes and a toothbrush."
"Oh, that's brilliant," Tonks sighed. "I was not looking forward to making that walk of shame."
There was a bit of silence as Harry poured the coffee, and truth be told, that silence was more awkward than any they'd experienced the previous night.
"Is this odd?" Harry asked.
"Is what odd?"
"You, me, here - kinda déjà vu, don't you think?"
"If I recall correctly, we were in that old flat of mine, not a - Great Helga's tits this place is huge!"
"Right," Harry said. "But the rest of it. Waking up in bed together after a night on the town? This didn't end so well last time, if you remember."
"Well, we analyzed the shit out of it then. We don't have to do that this time."
Harry chuckled. "I suppose you're right. Would you mind passing the cream?"
The silence became easier as they sipped their coffee, with Harry snuggling next to Tonks against the headboard.
"I will tell you, though, that this is the best date I've ever had," Harry said.
"Oh, really?" Tonks asked with a smirk. "Last time you and I went out, you got birthday head in the ladies'."
"Fair," Harry replied. "But Jack didn't sort out a room for us."
"Too true," Tonks said, returning to her coffee. "However, whether or not this is the best date ever, I'm sure that I don't want it to end just yet. And," she continued, sliding a hand underneath Harry's bathrobe, "Oh my. I'm quite certain you don't want it to end just yet, either."
Harry threw back the remainder of his coffee and leaned back into the headboard. "Right," was all he could manage to reply.
"But it will eventually have to end, won't it?" Tonks asked, continuing her work under Harry's bathrobe. Harry didn't answer her this time.
"What happens, for instance, when we get back to England? Harry?"
"I suppose that'll - oh God - take care of itself when we get there."
Tonks smiled wickedly. "Good answer," she said, untying his robe and straddling him. "Good answer."