Author's Note: You wanted more Tonksy goodness? You got it. And if my story gets bumped up to an "M" as a result of this chapter, I'll go back and swap out some innuendo for some action. Your reviews are wonderful – thank you! Speaking of reviews, I have tried to clean up the grammar in this chapter, as well as signpost the dialogue better. Sorry to those who were distracted before. And special kudos to Fibinaci for figuring out that the mystery soccer star was none other than the LA Galaxy's Cobi Jones. No mysteries in this chapter, but do enjoy:
Chapter Six:
The package that Remus and Tonks left with Harry contained Muggle clothes, and some of the nicest he had ever seen. There was a lightweight charcoal suit, a deep red dress shirt with French cuffs (complete with gold cufflinks), and a pair of the shiniest black oxfords he had ever seen. New socks and shorts that didn't require a belt completed things for Harry, and he was quite taken at their thoughtfulness. Ron on the other hand – not so much.
"Honestly, Harry. A good t-shirt and a pair of jeans would have done you just fine. You're going out to a club, mate, not to meet her folks." Harry pulled the collar of the shirt over top of the blazer's lapels as he scrutinized his 'look' in the mirror.
"Don't let the downstairs mirror catch you at that, Harry. Don't want it telling the whole family about your secret inner ponce, now." Harry walked a couple of steps out of the twins' room and onto the second floor landing.
"Hermione!" shouted Harry in the direction of Ginny's room, pretending not to pay attention to Ron's chiding. There was no movement. Harry waited a beat, and then tried again.
"Could you help me with these cuffs?" Three seconds or so later, and Hermione and Ginny had appeared in the room, quite impressed with Remus and Tonks's tastes in menswear. Hermione was busy straightening and re-straightening Harry's collar and cuffs, while Ginny was standing back pensively, taking in Harry's entire 'look', and offering pointers to Hermione.
"No, two buttons open should do it, I think. Nineteen ninety-six, not seventy-six, Hermione. Nice touch with the cuffs there, Lupin. Harry, you do look sharp tonight. Tonks isn't going to know what hit her."
"Seeing as she helped picked out the clothes, Gin, I imagine she's got a fair idea," responded Harry, quite unaccustomed to the attention.
"Right. Well, now. Back up, Granger. Let's have a look at him. No. No that just won't do. We're going to have to do something about this hair. Potter. My room. Now. If you own a hairbrush, bring it with," commanded Ginny, who was having one of what she liked to call her 'channeling Molly' moments. Harry, not one to back down when having been given a direct order, had already made his way downstairs. Hermione and a surprisingly curious Ron followed accordingly.
"Five sickles says she gets it to stay put." Ron was heard muttering to Hermione as they walked behind Ginny.
"I'll take that bet, Weasley," she answered. "Harry's never been able to get it down even with magic."
Harry was seated in a chair in the middle of Ginny's room rather bewildered by the fuss. Ginny pulled out a small tub of what to Harry looked to be some mysterious unctuous potion. He got up, suddenly rethinking his decision to trust the young redhead.
"Merlin's beard, Potter. Sit. It's just a bit of styling gel. Wouldn't kill you to put an effort into your appearance, you know."
"Don't know if I want to be wearing more hair product than my date, Ginny. I'm pretty sure she likes blokes, and I don't want her getting confused."
"Harry," Ginny asked, plaintively, "just trust me here, please?" Harry again did as he was asked, and although it was a bit disturbing to have someone else style his hair, he felt quite comfortable where he was. After Ginny had finished, he was even more comfortable with the results.
"That's just brilliant, Ginny. You've actually made my hair look good. I mean, it's still standing up and all, but now it looks like it's supposed to."
"You should do this for yourself, Harry," Ginny answered. "You really are a good-looking guy; all I did was make your hair do what it naturally wants to do. Now go, have a good time. Tonks isn't going to know what hit her. Ginny and Hermione each gave Harry a quick hug. Meanwhile a very pointed "Ponce!" was heard being not-so-gracefully masqueraded in a cough of Ron's.
"Wait, Harry," exclaimed Hermione with a wry smile on her face. "It's not everyday that one gets fashion advice from Ron 'The Ginger Casanova' Weasley after all. Ron? What pearls of club-going-etiquette wisdom were you going to bestow to our dear Harry this evening? Were you going to regale him with ribald tales of your wasted youth sucking down butterbeers at the Three Broomsticks with Dean and Seamus? Or perhaps give him some advice on how to handle an older woman? All that experience you've racked up might do the lad some good, what? Now, pay up Weasley. That hair's anything but flat."
"You pay up, Hermione, Ginny got it to look good."
"But it's still standing straight in the air. The bet was on whether she could get it to lay down."
"That's semantics"
"And you're …" But that was all Harry heard of the argument.
Tonks appeared a few moments later in an apron and a short black dress with a flowing skirt that ended high enough above the knees for Harry to stare. Or maybe it was the two inch pumps that did him in. Most likely it was the combination. Harry was hoping like hell that it wasn't the apron.
"Harry," Tonks said with her usual mirth, "you look absolutely dashing in that suit. Remus is going to be so pleased."
"Why?" Harry asked. "Did he pick it out?"
"But of course. Ha! Do you think I know anything about mens' fashion, Harry? Come now, sweets, there's Mexican waiting for us at my flat." Tonks had grabbed Harry's hand and headed for the floo before the pair was interrupted by Molly.
"Oh Harry dear, you do look smart tonight. Go on with you, then. Have a wonderful time. Now, if you'll just permit me a word with Tonks, she'll catch up with you in a moment." Tonks nodded in Harry's direction.
"Go ahead, Harry. Remus is already there. I'll be just a minute." Harry wasn't comforted by Tonks's cheery demeanor. He was certain that they had been found out by Molly; that Ron couldn't be trusted to keep a secret, that Ginny's jealous streak had gotten the best of her and she had ratted them out, that Hermione's sense of 'propriety' had won out, or that he had been caught with one-too-many longing gazes over at his lady-friend.
"We're done for, Remus," was how Harry entered Tonks's flat.
"How do you mean?"
"Mrs Weasley's found us out. She's having a 'chat' with Tonks right now. Bugger, bugger, bugger!" Harry punctuated this outburst with three bangs of Tonks's kitchen counter.
"Remus Lupin, what kind of ideas are you filling our poor hero's head with now?" was the best music Harry had heard in a good long time. Tonks's laughing tone rang through her flat like churchbells, and it was a sunny Sunday morning all over Harry's face as it exploded into a smile. Harry approached the young auror with a kiss.
"How was it then, love? Stunners, or did she go straight for the Cruciatus?"
"Oh, Molly's just fine. She wanted to know what kind of protection we had for you, but I assured her that with your dashing good looks I'd be the one needing protection tonight. Of course, if it's a buggering you're looking for instead…"
"Tonks!"
"then I'm going to be left out in the lurch. Merlin, Harry," and her voice got significantly lower and sultrier as she placed a lingering, purposeful kiss on his lips, "we're going to be beating them off of you with a stick." And their kiss lingered for three or four moments longer than was appropriate with company in the room.
"Ahem," interrupted Remus with a smile. "Now, I certainly don't mind if you two want to retire to Tonks's boudoir to continue this, but do let me know, because this ceviche is fabulous, and I may very well make sure that there's none left for you when you're done." And after this gentle dip in Remus's cold shower of manners, Tonks and Harry joined him at the table, and tucked into another Nymphadora Tonks Gastronomical Feat Of Wizardry. After the ceviche came a spectacular course of flank steak tacos with a zippy pico de gallo and homemade guacamole.
"Thought I'd have to apparate to California to get some decent avocados," began Tonks's screed on procuring her more exotic ingredients. "And jalapeños. You'd think the English had never cooked with a pepper!"
"Well, we haven't," was Remus's glib response. Harry was too busy figuring out whether he liked one or two spoons of cilantro on his taco to pay much attention.
"And can a witch buy masa anywhere in this country? No. Without magic we'd be having Shepherd's bloody Pie every night, I swear. I had to do a charm spiking the bloody pH of water to soak ears of maize that I dried myself…" And all Harry could do was stare in wonder as she went on about the care she put into homemade tortillas. Tonks noticed with a smirk.
"That's right, love; gorgeous, and I can cook. Quite a catch if I do say so myself. Not tipped to save the world from mad dark wizards, mind, but," and her voice once again got lower as she leaned across the table nearly into Harry's lap, resting on her elbows, "I have plenty of other talents."
Harry then knew what it must feel like to be a treacle tart sitting at the Weasley's table. And there wasn't the slightest tinge of red in his face as he grinned, looking deeply into Tonks's eyes.
And that wasn't the last time that night that Harry would be looked at like a confection. Walking a good six blocks from the Underground station, Remus, Harry and Tonks appeared at the front door of Sweeney Todd's, a muggle nightclub. The rather ebullient bouncer / doorman greeted them warmly.
"Remus, sweetie, so good of you to stop by tonight. And Miss Tonks, you're looking simply fabulous. Oh my. And just who's this tall drink of water? Makes a bloke thirsty just to look at him."
"Jack, this is Harry. Harry, meet Jack. He's an old friend of your godfather's and mine." Remus introduced the beefy, crew-cut doorman to Harry, and as he mentioned Sirius, the jocular mood vanished quickly.
"Oh. Honey, you know how sorry we all are about Sirius. You just have a good time tonight. Barman Dave will take good care of you." And, as if an internal switch automatically pointed back to 'Showtime', he finished with a flourish. "And if anyone in there gives you a hard time, sweets, you just let me know. But you'll be fine, we don't bite… unless you ask nicely." Pleased with both himself and his lame joke, Jack opened the door, again with a flourish, and the three magic folks walked into a pulsatingly loud, dark, smoke-filled hall. They were able to get a table upstairs, knowing Jack as long as they had, and they sat down and ordered drinks. A scotch and water for Remus, a whiskey sour for Tonks (who was trying to girl it up for the occasion), and a cider for Harry, which was plenty of alcohol for someone whose strongest drink to date had been butterbeer. Conversation proved obnoxiously difficult with the ear-bleeding bass blaring "Show Me Love", and Harry's attention drifted to the dance floor. Upon seeing his first-ever go-go boy, Harry's only reaction was:
"Tonks, love, how did we wind up at a gay nightclub?"
"Straight muggle clubs are much too bloody pretentious, darling. Plus, Remus and Jack have been friends for so long, that this is where he likes to go on his nights out. Oh come off it, sweets, it's not catching." Tonks was laughing as she stood up and took the young man by the hand, leading him to the half-filled dance floor. Harry stopped her about two feet past their table.
"Tonks, I've never danced before. How do I… they're all so good." Tonks leaned very, very closely into Harry's ear and said as softly as she could without having to obliviate anyone:
"I charmed your suit. You'll be just fine. Relax, feel the music, and have fun. Besides, the other good thing about a gay nightclub is that they're all to busy thinking about how they look to pay any attention to you." She winked, gave him a saucy kiss on the cheek, and they kept going. The sound of digitally created heartbeats, rain and thunder brought a quickening to Tonks's steps, and by the time the digitally-created pan flutes entered the song, she was nearly as a run.
"Harry, they're playing your song!" yelled Tonks nearly in a squeal, sounding every bit the sixth-year she was when she first heard the song that was blaring from the speakers. A smoky, sultry American voice came down from the dance hall's rafters
I'm talking, I'm talking
I believe in the power of love
I'm singing, I'm singing
I believe that you can
"Rescue me!" Tonks helped Madonna along less than graciously, and Harry had let wicked smirk take over his face.
"Tonks, who sings this?" Harry shouted over the din.
"Gods, Harry, it's Madonna. Don't you recognize her?"
"Right. Think you might let her then? She's better at it than you."
"Cheeky bastard. That jokes older than you are."
"But every bit as effective. Now shut up and dance, woman!" And dance they did. Harry wasn't sure if his suit actually was charmed or not, but he was enjoying himself, and certainly not embarrassing himself during the DJ's lengthy liberties with Ms. Ciccione's work. Ten minutes later, the song had morphed almost magically into another. The drums became snares, and the bass frequency dropped so low Harry thought his eardrums would begin bleeding.
Tonks whispered, "Follow my lead, love," as she grabbed Harry by the backside and pulled his hips toward her own. As she began whispering the words to the song in his ear, they moved their bodies snakelike against each other. Had Harry been paying attention to anything other than the up and down movement of the glistening décolleté of his pink-haired girl, he'd have had proof that his suit was charmed. Because he ought not have been able to remain standing when Tonks whispered
I wanna kiss you in Paris
I wanna hold your hand in Rome
I wanna run naked in a rainstorm
Make love in a train cross-country
so close to his ear that all of the hair on the back of his neck stood up on end, disregarding the ridiculously hot conditions on the dance floor.
I don't wanna be your mother
I don't wanna be your sister either
I just wanna be your lover
I wanna be your baby
Kiss me, that's right, kiss me
And grabbing the scruff of Tonks's neck, pulling her face toward him, Harry did just that, earning the two of them quite a few second-looks. Their bodies mimicked the impatient lust dripping from the speakers.
Talk to me -- tell me your dreams
Am I in them?
Tell me your fears
Are you scared?
Tell me your stories
I'm not afraid of who you are
And as both Tonks and Madonna got to
We can fly!
Tonks tugged on Harry's earlobe with her teeth, running her fingernails down his sweat-soaked neck hard enough to leave three red lines in their wake. All thoughts of propriety, of composure, hell, all thoughts that there might be more than two people in that room were gone. Three minutes later the song ended, and Tonks growled
"Follow me"
in Harry's ear. The two of them took off through the crowds for what Tonks knew would be a very deserted ladies' room. Not having time to argue that yes, this is the ladies' room, and yes, your ruddy arse is going straight in there, Tonks simply pushed the young man ahead of her through the door and into the end stall.Whatever vestiges of boyhood were left on the young man who had twice survived encounters with Voldemort were lost there, seated on the tank in a stall, head and back pressed against cold, wet tile, and fingers full of pink hair. Ten minutes later, Tonks headed for the sinks to clean up, and Harry nearly died when he heard a man's affected voice telling her
"Honey, if you can make that boy scream for mythical wizards, I want your technique!"
and he made a rather noisy attempt at locking himself in the stall. Tonks knocked after the drag queen had made his way out of the loo.
"He's gone, Harry. You can come out now. All clear." Harry's face was crimson.
"Oh, no need for blushing, love. You're hardly the first to have that done to them here. Hell, you're not even the first tonight from what I've seen. Now buck up. We're going to wish Remus a very good night, and then I have dessert back at my flat."
"Right. What are we having, then?" Tonks looked Harry up and down, licking her lips in a way that buckled his knees when he caught a glimpse.
"Treacle Tart. My favorite."
More Author's Note: Lyrics for "Rescue Me" originally written by Madonna and Shep Pettibone. Lyrics for "Justify My Love" originally written by Lenny Kravitz. Both © 1991, Sire Music.
Yes, I'm a huge Madonna fan. Have been since "Like a Virgin". In 1996 she had not yet moved to England, so any snarky comments about her accent or religious leanings will have to wait until I write "Summer of 2006", which wouldn't involve Tonks anyway. This was a fun chapter to write. I hope you enjoyed it to. Please do let me know; the button's right down there.
-Christopher