Trigger Warning: Attempted molestation in this chapter, but I promise, I won't let anything too* bad happen to Tonks!
CHAPTER TWELVE
Tonks frowned into her glass of half-empty milk, her brows furrowed as she sniffed once or twice to blink back the salty liquid that threatened to escape her lids for what felt like the twelfth time since vacating the Ministry of Magic.
She'd gone straight to her desk, which was really more of a cubicle if she was being honest with herself, packed up her belongings in a box, and had given her wand a curt wave, where the box would be waiting for her back home, and she had Disapparated straight to The Leaky Cauldron without telling anyone, not Arthur, not Kingsley, not even sending a Patronus to Remus, where she was going. She needed to digest this further.
She was pregnant and had been fired.
And she had no idea what to do about it other than to stay put here in the pub and continue to drink her milk.
Normally, this kind of stressful situation would have stressed her out enough to the point where she would have downed maybe two or three glasses of pure straight Fire Whiskey, not caring if the alcohol burned her throat going down.
But once she'd told Tom the bartender she was pregnant, the only thing she could have to drink to maintain the health of the baby growing inside her was a glass of cold milk, so she had numbly accepted it, trying to drown her sorrows.
What the bloody hell was she going to do?! Umbridge had fired her. Merlin's Beard, this had never happened to her.
Tonks had never been fired before in her life. She needed to work, she and Rem needed the money.
They were going to become parents and they could not support themselves and a brand-new baby if the two of them were living on the brink of poverty, and she knew Umbridge's Anti-Werewolf Legislation made it almost virtually impossible for people like her husband and now her, to find and maintain a steady job with a livable income, enough to support a family.
Oh, they were doing just fine on Remus's salary alone, given that Professor Dumbledore, Merlin bless that old wizard, understood the nature of Remus's condition and had, in Tonks's mind, taken pity on her husband following Umbridge's passing of the Anti-Werewolf Legislation Act, which rendered it virtually almost impossible for Remus (and now her, Tonks knew) to get decent jobs that matched their skill set and pay grade, and had begun to pay her husband a modest salary in exchange for his full-time status as an Order member.
Though she doubted that Albus would extend that same courtesy to her if she were to even consider asking, and there was a part of her wounded pride that did not want to admit that she was now struggling, suffering, needing help.
Tonks groaned and slumped her head to the table and buried her head in her arms, sliding her now empty glass of cold milk across the bar for a refill.
"Tom," she barked, aware her voice sounded cold and clipped. "Can I get a second glass, please? A really big one?" she begged, blearily lifting her head, and staring at Tom.
She swallowed down hard past the growing lump in her throat and blinked back a fresh onset of salty tears that stung and blurred the edges of her vision.
The aging wizard with a back slightly hunched that caused him to stoop over permanently furrowed his thick greying brows into a frown as he obliged.
"You uh, you might want to slow down there, Mrs. Lupin," Tom murmured lowly.
Now it was Tonks's turn to frown as she lifted her head almost slowly, blinking through her haze of tears. "Don't tell me what to do, Tom! It's bloody milk, Tom, not alcohol, it's not going to get me drunk, so just get me a refill when I ask for one. Am I a paying customer here or aren't I?! What d'you think I'm going to do to myself, huh, Tom? Top myself?" she bellowed, curling her hand into a fist, and slamming it down on the bar counter.
Tonks blinked owlishly as she winced, realizing just how loud and upset her voice sounded, and she swore that she felt every head in the bar turn and pivot in her general direction, their piercing gazes branding the back of her skull hotter than any Chinese Fireball dragon could ever flame.
She gulped and slowly swiveled back around on her barstool to try to mind her own business.
"Excuse me, miss," a man's voice, rich, deep, a baritone and the kind of voice a man ought to have, spoke up beside her.
Tonks blinked and turned at the waist.
"What?" she barked, flinching at how rough and coarse her voice sounded, not at all like her at all, and she quickly became hit with the realization that this must be her new inner She-Wolf's temper manifesting itself in the form of her newfound aggression towards Tom as she thrummed her fingertips on the counter, impatiently waiting for her second glass of milk, really wanting a Fire Whiskey to dull the pain of losing the job that she had genuinely loved, but not able to have any due to the nature of her pregnancy. "What do you want, guy?"
The man was tall, almost as tall as Remus, towering over her as he slid onto the empty barstool next to Tonks, and she immediately stiffened at the unwanted close proximity of this new he-stranger and her.
She didn't want company right now, she was not in a good mood as of right now, so this guy better speak fast.
Kind of good-looking, she guessed. Dark hair, a strong face that looked like it had been pistol-whipped or jinxed a time or two, a good jawline and chiseled cheekbones, two-day stubble alongside his chin, bright blue eyes.
Definitely not handsome, but rugged, and his voice was rich and deep when he spoke.
"The other patrons in the pub came here for a drink, and they can't enjoy themselves when you're over here causing a scene, miss. Kindly still your rage. If you're going to be unreasonable, then we have a problem," the man growled.
Tonks felt her hands curl into a tight fist around her cold glass of milk, feeling the condensation beads on the outside of the glass, before lifting the glass to her lips, draining its contents, and slamming the glass down back on the counter hard enough to crack the glass, though, by a miracle of Merlin, it didn't.
"Whatever," she grumbled, dipping into her bag, and pulling out a pouch of coins, where she tossed a Galleon and a Knut to Tom the barkeep for her milk.
Huffing in frustration, she stuck her coin pouch back into the main compartment of her black purse and swung her bag over her shoulder, and headed for the ladies' loo of The Leaky Cauldron.
The longer she spent her attempting to drown her sorrows like this, the worse she was making things for herself, Tonks realized.
But nor did she particularly relish the idea of going home and telling Remus the truth.
That she'd lost her job this evening and didn't know where to go from here, where she would look for a job next if anyone would even hire her once they knew the truth of her lycanthropy, and that she was expecting a baby, too.
Deep in thought over these troubling thoughts, as Tonks looked down as water from the sink dribbled over her fingertips, she clutched onto the edges of the white porcelain sink to steady herself, she slowly lifted her head and gazed into the mirror, and she drew in a breath that hurt.
Tonks froze when she saw herself in the bathroom mirror, her knuckles going white as she clutched onto the sink tightly.
She stared at her reflection, or more specifically, her neck. A long, jagged scar snaked down the right side of her neck, the only physical evidence of Remus's attack against her now going on three weeks ago.
It was an unusual looking scar, an odd mixture of bright white and light pink, shocking against her pale skin. The skin around the scar itself was also slightly discolored, suggesting that even now, it still hadn't managed to heal itself properly.
Tonks slowly unclenched one of her hands from the sink and lightly brushed it down the scar, tracing the jagged line slowly with the pads of her shaking fingertips.
She sighed and averted her gaze from the mirror, biting her bottom lip and ducking her head to allow a wavy lock of her hair tumble in front of her face like a curtain.
Even though she was mostly healed from her attack, she was still unable to look at her scar for longer than a minute.
She hung her head, shame washing over her in waves as she stood alone in the dimly lit bathroom. Tonks had been so engrossed in getting her bearings, needing a moment to think, to ponder how to tell Rem that she had been fired, that Tonks hadn't been paying attention when another person walked in.
This person was now standing at the sink, speaking to her, and when the individual spoke up behind Tonks, she let out a yelp of fright and whirled around on the heel of her black boot, her lips parted open in shock as she found herself staring face-to-face with the man who'd scolded her for her behavior.
She felt her face drain of color.
"Wh—what are you doing in here?! Can't you read; this bathroom is for witches!" Tonks growled angrily, feeling the corners of her mouth turn down in a pout.
The man from just a few moments ago merely proceeded to smirk at seeing Tonks's cheeks flush pink with color as she took a staggering step back from the sink.
"I must have missed it," the dark-haired man snorted, suddenly standing entirely too close for Tonks's comfort, as she flinched and shirked away. "You seemed a little put off back there, baby doll. I wanted to make sure as a…concerned friend, you were okay."
Friend. Friend?! Tonks felt like her mind was reeling. She didn't even know this man.
She gulped nervously, though she felt a quiet vibration plaster underneath her skin as the fine hairs on the back of her neck stood up.
Tonks glanced to the left and right, no other witches coming into the loo that she could so, and unless she could make a run for it, then there was no telling what this towering he-stranger in front of her wanted with her.
Though judging by the hungered look in his eyes, and the glistening unshed moisture, Tonks had a feeling she could guess, which only intensified her rolling nerves.
Tonks bit the inside wall of her cheek and felt her fingers nervously clutch onto the strap of her black purse for support, the other behind her back, fumbling for her wand in her back pocket of her black pants.
"Th—thanks, sir, for your… kind words and your concern, but I'm going to be just fine." Tonks frowned, pursing her lips into a rigid, narrow line, and shooting the man a glowering look of daggers. "You really should go now before another witch comes in here and sees you and gets the wrong idea, pal…"
"Or the right idea," the man growled, putting his large hands around Tonks's shoulders. She grimaced and shrunk down when she started to feel the man's fingers moving softly over the fabric of her shirt, gingerly rubbing her shoulders. "You're a cutie, doll. I've always had me a thing for witches like you with a pretty face. Good body, too," he murmured appreciatively, giving Tonks's figure a brief once-over, ignoring her look of outrage. What's a pretty witch like you doing in The Leaky Cauldron all by yourself?"
"I—I'm not alone," Tonks lied through gritted teeth. She curled her left hand into a fist over the strap of her purse and raised it slightly, trying to get this creep to see her left ring finger, at the glint of the yellow gold ring she wore on her finger. "My husband is here with me, he—he just stepped out for a moment, but he'll be right back. You need to go!"
The man snorted and narrowed his eyes and a low warning growl escaped from the confines of his burly chest. "You're lying, love. Your husband isn't here with you, doll. I don't think so, sweetheart. You've been alone at the bar the entire time since you first stepped foot inside. I've been watching you ever since you got here, pretty little thing. Why don't you and I spend a little…quality time together? My name's Max, love."
Just the cold inflections of his voice were enough to send a chill down her back and her stomach to churn.
Oh, my Merlin, Tonks thought, feeling the bitter, unpleasant taste of bile creep its way up into her throat and linger on her tongue as she blinked back briny tears.
She didn't even have to guess anymore as to what this creep's intentions were. "Look, buddy, if you know what's good for you, you'll get your hands off of me. Leave. Now."
"No, I don't think so, dollface," the man growled, squeezing her arm tight in a fist. "You came off as pretty rude to me out there when I was trying to save you from being embarrassed. You can't just cut people off like that, sweetheart, don't you know it's rude."
She did know as a matter of fact, but she wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of answering him, a fact which angered him, judging by the low warning growl he let out.
As she backed away from him, using the wall as a brace, inching her way towards the door and prepared to summon as much strength in her lungs as she possibly could to belt out the loudest scream she could muster that would seem Tom or any of the other staff here in The Leaky Cauldron running, she felt Max grab out at her arm and shove her down.
"NO!" she screamed, swatting away at his groping hands as she shoved against his chest, she was sure, yes, she was sure that she shoved this creep, and hard too, though a fat lot of good it did her. "Somebody! Help me!" she screamed, tears welling in the corners of her eyes, prompting the man to let go of her shoulder that he'd firmly clamped onto in order to prevent Tonks from escaping and slapped his hand over her mouth in a vice grip.
"You're going to want to go along with this, dollface, trust me on this," he murmured, reaching up a hand and stroking her wavy strands, sending a tremor of fear down Tonks's spine. "I know what you are, sweetheart," he whispered through his teeth.
Tonks shuddered as she felt the pads of his fingertips graze along the skin of her collarbone, and she had to bite her lip to keep from crying out in pain as one of his hands seized a fistful of her hair and tugged it violently back and off of her shoulders, effectively exposing the mangled, scarred side of her neck.
"You're a She-Wolf, you little bitch, aren't you?" he snarled, though there was something glistening in his unhinged bright blue eyes.
A burning, smoldering, fathomless rage intermingled with a look of lust and rancor, and Tonks was very quick to decide that she did not like it one bit and needed some help.
She was beginning to regret not telling anyone at the Ministry that she had planned to come here.
Tonks cursed herself as she knew she could have at least told Mr. Weasley, or Kingsley, Merlin's Beard, even Moody, and old Broody Moody would have understood.
Or sent a Patronus home to Remus, she thought, and then she squeezed her eyes shut, feeling like a fool for only just remembering Professor Dumbledore had assigned him with Sirius to overnight Guard duty, and he would not even be home until tomorrow.
"Don't worry, doll, I'll keep your dirty little secret. For a price. I've never had fun with a Wolf before," the man taunted, the edges of his lips curling upwards into a smirk.
The corners of his mouth twitched into his cheek as he allowed the pads of his fingertips to just gently graze the delicate flesh around her scars, light enough that he was not actually pressing down on the wound site, just enough to enforce his message to her.
The left side of Max's face tugged upwards, creating a sinister smirk on what Tonks guessed if he were kinder would have been a god-like face, and if she were younger and not married, the guy's good looks might have once made her weak in the knees, though her heart would always belong to Remus, though this guy didn't care that she was married.
In the guy's arrogant triumph, he continued smirking—just a small pouting of the lips, a narrowing of those brilliant blue eyes, and a slight cocking of his head to the right.
It was so subtle, for poor Tonks, it was almost infuriating for her to watch, as her stomach churned and rolled, twisting like coils in her gut as she swore she tasted vomit.
Tonks let out a muffled whine that sounded more akin to the noise a wounded dog would make after it had been kicked by its master as the man gripped onto both of her shoulders firmly with his hands and violently shoved her, so she was kneeling on her knees on the disgusting bathroom floor in front of the man, who towered over her as he lurked.
"How about this, little dove?" the man called Max suggested with a frustrated exhale as he continued to hover over Tonks, all the while maintaining his firm grip on her shoulder.
Tonks slowly opened her eyes and tried to focus her tear-filled gaze at the guy.
"I'm getting real sick of your pretentious attitude, you little bitch. Don't you get it, doll? How the rest of us sees monsters like you? Though, you're lucky you're a pretty one," he sighed, almost sounding disappointed as he shook his head.
Tonks opened her mouth to speak, though nothing was coming out.
"If it were up to me, your kind would be hunted down for sport like the dogs that you are. Maybe…if you're really good, sweetheart, I'll even take you home. Hell, I'll buy you a pretty pink collar and you can be my little bitch."
Max's lips twisted upward in a vicious sneer as he looked down his slender, slightly crooked nose at her.
Tonks whimpered and shook her head vehemently no, back and forth, even when Max tightened her grip over her mouth, crushing the back of her head painfully against the weight of his firm hand, one over her mouth, and the other holding fistfuls of her hair.
She moved her hand up towards her face to try to pry Max's hand off her, to plead her case.
But she couldn't get the wizard to move his hand. "Ngh…" she growled, clawing pitifully at his hand with both of hers in a vain effort to get him off of her, but no such luck.
"Stop. Fighting." The command escaped Max's lips as a low growl as he dragged her closer towards him, starting to fumble with his belt to remove it with all too-eager fingers. "I'm gonna snap your wrist if you try anything, dog," he warned threateningly. "And remember, babe, if you think about going savage and letting your inner Wolf out and try to scream or howl or bite me or whatever you sick animals do for attention, this is going to get a whole lot worse for you, little dove, I can promise you that. I'm not gonna hurt you, witch, unless you make me. I never want to hurt you. I hope you know that, sweetheart."
Threats or no threats, Tonks knew she could not let herself be humiliated like this, and the moment she felt the man's strong arm grip onto her shoulder, tugging her upward slightly to better position her so that she was closer, she began fighting against his firm grip.
"Let go of me!" she cried out, squirming as hard as she could in Max's grip in order to break free and make a run for it.
Tonks was scared of what this man might do to her, simply because he had somehow managed to figure out in the short time she'd been here in The Leaky Cauldron, that she was a werewolf, but how?!
Tonks thought she had been careful.
She took great pains in wearing her hair loose these days to cover the scars on her neck that were still healing, and she wasn't about to go wearing short dresses anytime soon until the scratch markings and various cuts and bruises on both of her legs healed up, then.
Even when Tonks felt Max continued to clutch tightly onto her shoulder, leaving what Tonks could already tell were going to be painful bruises with his hands, Tonks continued to try to get up off of this disgusting bathroom floor riddled with awful germs.
It wasn't until the guy balled his strong, hairy hand into a fist and hefted back his arm and slammed it against her ribcage that Tonks's adrenaline rush left her immediately.
Tonks groaned and coughed as she doubled over on the floor in pain as fiery swells shot up and down her back, squeezing her eyes tightly closed, unable to focus on anything but the pain from the harsh blow to her ribcage she had just been dealt by this awful creep.
She knew she needed to scream for help, for Tom, the maid that worked here, someone, to come in and help her before this guy could finish what he was trying to start.
But the only thing Tonks could manage to do was choke out a pained wince and draw in sharp breaths of air that hurt her bruising ribcages as she was violently wrenched to her knees by Max for a second time, unable to focus on anything but the burning pain.
Pain seared through her abdomen better than a branding iron, Tonks's mind conceding to the torment, unable to bring a thought to completion.
Without meaning to she felt it as her body curled into something fetal, something primeval, and all the while the pain burns and radiates. The pain wasn't sharp like needlepoint or a knife, it burned around Tonks's innards better than boiling water.
Everything feels scolded and, move or not, and she couldn't, she knew she in more pain than she could have imagined was possible. She whined as she heard Max's low, grating voice.
"Stop moving, you little bitch…" Max grabbed onto a fistful of her hair and tugged it painfully back, exposing the pale column of her throat.
Tonks whimpered and shrunk down, trying her hardest to force herself to remain calm, even though her Auror training was kicking in and telling her body to fight, this was her fight-or-flight mode kicking in and she wanted to fight like hell against his gross, horrible mistreatment, though she knew Max outweighed her by a ton at least.
He was way too strong for her to overpower physically and considering he was clutching firmly onto both of her shoulders in an ironclad grip, she had no means to get at her wand in the back pocket of her pants.
Tonks bit down on her tongue, fighting back tears. She breathed in and out exhausted, shaking, pained breaths as she tried to force herself to kneel upright so that this creep didn't tug on her hair any more than the guy already was.
If she wanted to get out of this unharmed, her best bet, like it or not, was to just go along with whatever Max wanted, and then maybe he'd get out of here and leave her alone.
Tonks violently shook, her body wracked with silent sobs as her nervous, skittish gaze flitted towards the closed bathroom door of the witches' restroom.
There didn't seem to be anyone coming in to use the loo, and she highly doubted anyone had seen this guy follow her in here, considering everyone was always so engrossed in their own conversations. She flinched as the wizard raised his wand and pointed it at the old oak door.
"Muffliato!" he murmured in a low voice, and Tonks felt her stomach flip and churn.
Great, Tonks thought despairingly, wanting to almost break down and weep.
No one was going to hear her now if she screamed for someone to help her. Screaming in this case was going to do her no good at all and would probably only result in this guy hurting her worse if she tried to put up more of a fight. Tonks was bloody lost.
But Merlin's Beard, she didn't know what to do! As she was forced to kneel on her knees on the linoleum floor of the lavatory in front of Max, with his crushing hands bruising her arms and the man's threats of what he wanted to do to werewolves lingering in her eardrums and in her hazy mind, it suddenly hit her square in the chest, as though she had been hit by a Knockback Jinx, that there was no way out of this little precarious position…
Not until Max was done with her. She was going to have suffer through whatever the wizard wanted of her, but hopefully, he'd let her go after all of this.
Her body felt frozen, rooted to the spot, and her lungs heaving and gasping for air, and she tasted bile on her tongue and she clamped her mouth shut, thinking that if she tried to open her mouth and plead with this man to let her go, she'd vomit all over his precious shoes, and then he'd really be royally ticked.
Tonks's body still convulsed, shaking violently at what was inevitably about to happen to her, as she heard the man's belt buckle begin to loosen.
A horrible numbness began to spread throughout her entire body, and Tonks felt the edges of her vision begin to blur, black dots swarming her line of sight, and she felt as though she might actually pass out at any given moment.
She wasn't sure if she had ever felt more terrified in her entire life than at this moment. The night of her attack paled in comparison to what was about to happen to her.
Tonks let out a whine and a pained, frightened sob as she clenched her eyes tightly shut and ground her molars in nervous anticipation of what was to come.
If Max weren't already holding onto her arms in a vice grip, she would have bloody well passed out long ago. She felt so bloody useless and defeated.
Tonks knew she should have told someone where she was going or asked Arthur or Kingsley to come with her as a designated sober companion, to take her home via Side-Along Apparition if things got a little too out of control here.
But no. She'd cared so much about masking her feelings, about not letting Arthur or Kingsley or any of her other coworkers or fellow Order members seeing her cry over the fact that Umbridge had fired her from her job, the second best thing she loved in this world aside from her loving, doting husband.
Oh, no…
She'd cared entirely too much about wanting to be left alone and now look.
Well. That was certainly coming back to bite her now, wasn't it?