A/N: Somewhat graphic sex ahead. You've been warned.
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Chapter Eleven: Need
Next morning Lupin pulled himself out of bed early. He'd slept badly, when he slept at all.
His mind had not quieted in the slightest since his row with Tonks. Over and over he played their heated conversation in his mind, wondering how it had taken such a turn. He'd never meant to set her off that way. He'd only wanted her to understand.
But she did understand, he thought. She does understand. And she's right, I am a bloody coward.
He dragged himself into the loo, stood above the sink and gazed into the mirror.
"Once again you look like hell," he muttered at his reflection.
"On this occasion I'd have to agree," the mirror said back.
Lupin splashed cold water on his face. He needed to shave. He desperately needed a haircut. Perhaps he'd submit to Molly after all, sometime after the next meeting of the Order. He brushed his teeth, but his mouth still tasted of Tonks. Her chocolate tongue. His hands still felt her skin.
He shook his head and went back into the bedroom, pulled on his worn tan trousers, a heavy wool jumper, a pair of old socks, his Oxfords, and left the bedroom, walking slowly and dejectedly down the stairs.
Tonks was not in the kitchen. She might still be sleeping. Or perhaps she'd awakened early and had left for work already. He couldn't face her today.
Lupin brewed coffee and looked in the refrigerator for something to eat. He wasn't hungry in the least, but his stomach was roiling unpleasantly and he knew only breakfast would calm it. He settled on some toast. He was just sitting down with a cup of coffee when the door swung open and Sirius strolled in.
"Good morning," he said. Lupin noticed he was in an inordinately fine mood.
"You're cheerful," Lupin said dryly.
"Yes, I am, quite," said Sirius brightly. "Is that coffee? Excellent." He poured himself a mug and sat down.
"So, Emmeline Vance," said Lupin. "That was quick."
"Are you suggesting that Miss Vance and I had carnal relations last night?" Sirius asked innocently.
"Of course not," said Lupin, glad to be talking and thinking about something other than his own misery. "Emmeline stated quite clearly last night that you two were having a discussion. I gather by your ridiculous grin that it was quite an enjoyable discussion."
"Yes, it was," said Sirius. "Emmeline is quite a firebrand. Has a very sharp tongue."
Lupin rolled his eyes. "Always with the bad double entendres."
"I was referring to her witty repartee, you randy dog," said Sirius. "And you should talk. Why were you on the floor last night with Tonks in your lap?"
Lupin ran a hand over his eyes. "I don't want to talk about that."
"Oh, ho, look who's acting all proper now," said Sirius.
"There's nothing between Tonks and me," said Lupin bitterly. "I made quite sure of that."
Sirius looked at him for a moment, then sank into his chair, his shoulders slumping. "Don't tell me you bunged it up."
"Oh, I did, most spectacularly," said Lupin.
"Let me guess," said Sirius sardonically. "You did your noble 'I can't get close to you because I might hurt you someday' bit and she didn't buy it."
"That's about the gist of it," said Lupin. "All except the noble part." He took a sip of his coffee. "You were right, mate. I am afraid. Afraid of everything. Of her. Do you know what she told me? That I underestimated her. From the day we met, she said. And she was right, she was bloody well right. I have been underestimating her. Thinking she's a child, she's too young to understand anything, that she can't look after herself, that she'd- -she'd let me down."
"She wouldn't," said Sirius.
"I know that," said Lupin sadly. "Now I do. After she threw it in my face. After she threw a lot of things in my face. All of them true. She told me she wanted me and I pushed her away. I'm a fool."
"I can't argue with that, mate," said Sirius, sipping his coffee.
"Thank you, your support means the world to me," said Lupin with a smirk.
"One of these days you're going to forgive yourself for being a werewolf," said Sirius shrewdly. "How far did it get with her, anyway?"
"Sirius."
"Oh, come on, it's me."
"Not far," said Lupin, "but far enough to make me regret I stopped. Or rather that you and Emmeline walked in on us."
"Sorry about that," said Sirius. "We were hungry. Talking so vigorously does give me an appetite."
"I can imagine," said Lupin. "Where is Emmeline now, anyway?"
"Sleeping," said Sirius. "Poor dear, I think I wore her out."
"You're an arrogant bastard, you know that?"
"It's just one of the many things that make me so lovable."
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The weather got colder as autumn arrived in earnest, and the Order became increasingly busy even as regular meetings became more rare.
Lupin had tried unsuccessfully to recruit werewolves for the Order. They were easy enough for him to spot, but the ones he managed to make contact with were skittish around him and all of them refused his offer to join the cause. Many of them were openly hostile to the idea that Voldemort had returned; others thought it might be true but were far too afraid to fight in the open. The two things they all had in common were that they hid their condition from everyone they knew, and that they all had steady employment.
Lupin had not spoken to Tonks much at all. She had not appeared that morning after their row; Lupin was correct in guessing she'd left the house early. But he was stricken to see that she'd taken all her things with her.
She hates me so much she doesn't even want to be under the same roof with me, he thought miserably.
Except that this wasn't entirely the case. Tonks, when she saw him, was always polite to him. Friendly enough. She even managed a few genuine smiles toward him. But their relationship had taken on the pall of two friends who'd had a terrible row from which neither had recovered. From which one party--who clearly owed the other an apology--had not yet done so.
Lupin knew he should, but he couldn't seem to find the energy to do it. He was more and more tired these days; living in Grimmauld Place was taking its toll. The screaming paintings, Kreacher's hateful mutterings, Sirius's dark moods that would come on suddenly and without warning, the utter bleakness of the house itself. All of these things weight on Lupin's mind like a cold, wet blanket. Somehow the idea of approaching Tonks, of begging her forgiveness--particularly when he was not sure he would get it--seemed to be too much for him to handle.
Then there was Sirius. His moods were swinging wildly. He had clearly started up something with Emmeline Vance; when she was around his mood improved. But she was frequently busy, both with her job at the Ministry and with work for the Order. Her visits were infrequent. Lupin's own work for the Order took him out of the house often, as well. Visits from other Order members became more and more sporadic. Thus, Sirius was having to spend more and more time in the house, alone, with dozens of shrieking portraits and a disgruntled, hateful house-elf for company. More often than not, Lupin would return to the house to find Sirius holed up in the room where Buckbeak the hippogriff was being kept. Lupin tried his best to cheer up his friend, but it was a tall order, and Lupin began to fear for his friend's very sanity. Cabin fever was a gross understatement of what Sirius was going through.
And then there was Tonks. Lupin's desire for her had not abated in the weeks since their row. On the contrary, every time he saw her he only wanted more, only regretted more letting her slip away.
Before long it was near Christmas. The air was cold with frost. The days were overcast and more often than not, heavy rain fell. A final meeting of the Order was held in the week before the Christmas holiday. The mood was anxious among the participants. Another wizard had been arrested breaking into the Department of Mysteries.
"Broderick Bode is in St. Mungo's now," said Kingsley Shacklebolt.
"He tried to get it himself, didn't he?" said Lupin.
"Yes," said Kingsley. "He didn't hold onto it long enough to lose his mind completely, mind, but he'll be holed up in St. Mungo's recuperating for some time."
"It had to have been a Death Eater," said Arthur Weasley. "The Imperius Curse."
"Bode would have known not to touch it," said Sirius.
"In any case, once his memory returns, he'll face the Wizengamot, no doubt, and probably end up in Azkaban," said Kingsley. "You-Know-Who is getting bolder, and he's getting closer."
"It's the Potter kid," said Moody. "You-Know-Who wants something to do with that kid."
"Dumbledore said they have a mental connection of some kind," said Tonks. Her hair was short, wavy and platinum blonde tonight.
"Because of the scar," said Sirius. "When Voldemort gave him the scar, he unwittingly forged a mental connection. Whenever Harry's scar hurts, he knows Voldemort's up to something. Angry, happy, whatever."
"Is You-Know-Who aware of this?" said Arthur, concern furrowing his brow.
"It's impossible to know, isn't it?" said Lupin. "But we have to assume if he doesn't, he'll find out. If Harry can see inside Voldemort's mind, it's only a matter of time before the reverse is true."
"So Harry will need some kind of protection," said Tonks. "Some way to keep You-Know-Who out of his head."
A silence went round the table for a moment.
"Occlumency," said Lupin slowly. "He'll need Occlumency."
"Good idea, mate," said Sirius, nodding vigorously. "Dumbledore could teach it to him, he's the best at it. Should we write to him?"
"Dumbledore's probably thought of it already," said Lupin. "And in any event there's no way to contact him now. The school has practically been sealed off by this Umbridge woman."
"She's taken over in earnest now," said Tonks, glancing at Lupin. "Reporting to Fudge hourly."
"How would you know that?" said Moody suspiciously.
Tonks gave him a very satisfied grin. "I have my ways." Lupin resisted the urge to smile.
"The most important thing is that it's safe, and that Harry is safe at the school," said Kingsley. "In the meantime, we're going to need to expand shifts with the holidays coming up. Lot of people traveling. Ministry won't have much to protect it. Arthur?"
"You can count on me," said Arthur. "And Molly."
"And me," said Tonks.
"I'm in," said Moody.
"Me, too," said Bill Weasley.
"I'm in as well, though my wife is going to kill me," said Kingsley. "I was supposed to dress up as Santa Claus this year."
The meeting adjourned, and gradually people filed out of the kitchen. Tonks was putting several rolls of parchment into her bag as she stood at the end of the table. She started to pile them in and promptly dropped them and the bag; the contents of the bag spilled out over the table. Lupin started toward her.
"Bloody hell," she said, rolling her eyes.
"Can I help?" Lupin asked.
"Oh," said Tonks. "Sure. Hi."
"Hi," he said, his stomach clenching. He picked up a scroll and handed it to her; she slipped it into her bag.
"How are you?" he asked, feeling ridiculous.
"Fine," she said stiffly. "Busy."
"Yes," said Lupin, taking another scroll and handing it to her. The kitchen was now empty but for them now; the candlelight was dim. "I've been busy as well."
"Right," said Tonks, picking up another scroll and dropping it.
"Tonks--"
"Don't, Remus," she said, picking up the dropped scroll. "Just--don't."
"Won't you even listen to me?"
"I've already heard all I need to hear from you," she said, but her voice was sad, not sharp.
"No, I don't think you have," said Lupin, wishing she'd stop fiddling with all of her junk that was spread out on the table.
"What is it, Remus?" she said, looking up at him and putting a hand on her hip. "Are you going to beg me to understand? Tell me we really can just be friends? Tell me I'm being childish? Because I've heard it all before, and frankly I don't care to hear it again."
She resumed the collecting of her things, but her hands were shaking slightly, and she kept dropping things on the table. A lipstick. Her brush. A quill. Lupin watched her for a moment and made his decision.
"Tonks," he said softly.
"What?" she demanded, sounding annoyed. She started to put her hands on her hips again, but he didn't give her the chance.
Instead he reached for her and pulled her roughly to him. She gasped, but that, too, was lost as he crushed his mouth against hers.
For a brief moment she stood frozen, and Lupin wondered whether he'd made a mistake. Whether she might push him away, slap him for his presumption. But then suddenly she was kissing him back, opening her mouth, moving her lips and tongue with his. He pulled her closer to him, pressed her against him. They kissed hungrily for several minutes, not coming up for air until Lupin thought he might faint.
"Wait," Remus whispered. "Wait--" He pulled his wand from his robes, pointed it at the door and muttered, "Colloportus," then kissed her mouth again. He let the wand drop to the floor.
His mouth dragged over her face, her jaw, her neck. Her hands snaked inside his robes, tugged at his shirt, pulled it out from the inside of his trousers.
It was in that moment that he knew he couldn't go slowly, that he couldn't take his time. All the years of suppressing this, all the months of wanting her--he couldn't savor it now, not when the need was this great.
His hands moved to the clasp of her robes and tore them open. She gasped again but he was kissing her hard, his hands roaming over her body as the robes fluttered to the floor. Her hands tugged at his shirt, his jumper, pulling them over his head; he paused only long enough to hurl the clothing away, then clasped her to him, kissing her frantically.
He pressed her bottom against the table, then felt his hands grip her bottom and lift her; her arms were tight round his neck and he moaned out loud when she clasped her legs round his waist.
Holding her with one hand, he swept the table free of the detritus of her bag; parchment, scrolls, quills, a hair brush, lipstick went flying, clattering noisily to the floor. He propped her up on the table and his hands went to her t-shirt; like a man possessed he tore it from her. She gave a small cry of surprise but then they were kissing again, his hands on her breasts, around her back, unhooking her brassiere, yanking away from her, tossing it aside.
Her hands were at his trousers, opening the buttons. He gasped with relief as she lowered them, releasing his erection from the confines of the fabric. Her hands were on him, stroking him, driving him mad. He groaned and pulled her to him, grinding his erection against her pelvis, his mouth devouring her breasts. His need became overwhelming.
His hands found her jeans, opened the buttons, tugged at them. His hands moved over her cotton knickers, between her legs, finding the wetness there. She moaned and threw back her head as he stroked her, moved his fingers inside the knickers, but it wasn't enough. He pulled at her jeans roughly.
"Wait," she said suddenly, "my boots."
She pulled her legs up long enough to unzip her boots, let them drop heavily to the floor; already Lupin was yanking her jeans down, down, down. One leg got caught on her ankle; she shook it and the jeans went skidding across the floor.
She pulled her to him, gripping his buttocks, grinding against him. His hands found the elastic of her knickers, and he pulled, tearing them off.
"God, Tonks," he moaned, pulling her against him, his sex seeking hers. Gripping her bottom, he found her sex and plunged inside.
They both groaned; Lupin thought he might lose himself right there. She was so wet, dear god. She held onto him tightly as he began to move, slowly at first, but then faster, driving into her, giving into his own need, feeling his desire spike as she tightened her grip on him, tightened her legs round his waist, tightened the muscles of her sex to stroke him harder. Slowly he leaned over, lowering her onto the table as he thrust into her. Her head thrown back, her arms round his neck, clawing at his back, scratching him. He felt his need building, cresting; he buried his head into her shoulder as he drove into her harder, faster. He felt her nails on his back, felt the sting as they cut his flesh, groaned as her hands gripped his buttocks, pulling him into her deeper and deeper.
"Remus," she cried. "Remus." Her breath like fire in his ear. She cried out and convulsed beneath him.
He felt a cry burst from his throat as the climax took him; his body tensed and shuddered with the release; Tonks sighed and clung to him as he sank onto her, his feet still on the floor, his body bent over hers on the table.
The silence of the room struck him as his breathing slowed, his heartbeat returned to normal. She was beneath him, her eyes glazed, her hair tangled. He pulled himself up, lifted her off her back, and she sank into his arms, against his chest.
"Remus," she whispered.
He couldn't speak. Couldn't think. He held her, caressed her back tenderly, wishing he hadn't rushed, knowing he couldn't have stopped himself.
She looked up at him and smiled. "That was very naughty."
Lupin laughed. He was still trying to catch his breath. His muscles were aching; he went slack as he slipped out of her.
"Was it?" he asked.
She nodded. "Lovely."
"I can't say..." he said, still trying to find his breath, "that I've ever done that...on a kitchen table."
"There's always a first time for everything," she said, laughing softly, brushing back a lock of sweaty hair from his brow.
"Tonks," said Lupin softly. "I'm sorry if--it all happened rather fast--I meant to go slow--"
"Take me upstairs," she whispered, kissing him slowly, teasing his lips with her tongue. "Take me to bed. We can go slow up there."
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Chapter Eleven: Need
Next morning Lupin pulled himself out of bed early. He'd slept badly, when he slept at all.
His mind had not quieted in the slightest since his row with Tonks. Over and over he played their heated conversation in his mind, wondering how it had taken such a turn. He'd never meant to set her off that way. He'd only wanted her to understand.
But she did understand, he thought. She does understand. And she's right, I am a bloody coward.
He dragged himself into the loo, stood above the sink and gazed into the mirror.
"Once again you look like hell," he muttered at his reflection.
"On this occasion I'd have to agree," the mirror said back.
Lupin splashed cold water on his face. He needed to shave. He desperately needed a haircut. Perhaps he'd submit to Molly after all, sometime after the next meeting of the Order. He brushed his teeth, but his mouth still tasted of Tonks. Her chocolate tongue. His hands still felt her skin.
He shook his head and went back into the bedroom, pulled on his worn tan trousers, a heavy wool jumper, a pair of old socks, his Oxfords, and left the bedroom, walking slowly and dejectedly down the stairs.
Tonks was not in the kitchen. She might still be sleeping. Or perhaps she'd awakened early and had left for work already. He couldn't face her today.
Lupin brewed coffee and looked in the refrigerator for something to eat. He wasn't hungry in the least, but his stomach was roiling unpleasantly and he knew only breakfast would calm it. He settled on some toast. He was just sitting down with a cup of coffee when the door swung open and Sirius strolled in.
"Good morning," he said. Lupin noticed he was in an inordinately fine mood.
"You're cheerful," Lupin said dryly.
"Yes, I am, quite," said Sirius brightly. "Is that coffee? Excellent." He poured himself a mug and sat down.
"So, Emmeline Vance," said Lupin. "That was quick."
"Are you suggesting that Miss Vance and I had carnal relations last night?" Sirius asked innocently.
"Of course not," said Lupin, glad to be talking and thinking about something other than his own misery. "Emmeline stated quite clearly last night that you two were having a discussion. I gather by your ridiculous grin that it was quite an enjoyable discussion."
"Yes, it was," said Sirius. "Emmeline is quite a firebrand. Has a very sharp tongue."
Lupin rolled his eyes. "Always with the bad double entendres."
"I was referring to her witty repartee, you randy dog," said Sirius. "And you should talk. Why were you on the floor last night with Tonks in your lap?"
Lupin ran a hand over his eyes. "I don't want to talk about that."
"Oh, ho, look who's acting all proper now," said Sirius.
"There's nothing between Tonks and me," said Lupin bitterly. "I made quite sure of that."
Sirius looked at him for a moment, then sank into his chair, his shoulders slumping. "Don't tell me you bunged it up."
"Oh, I did, most spectacularly," said Lupin.
"Let me guess," said Sirius sardonically. "You did your noble 'I can't get close to you because I might hurt you someday' bit and she didn't buy it."
"That's about the gist of it," said Lupin. "All except the noble part." He took a sip of his coffee. "You were right, mate. I am afraid. Afraid of everything. Of her. Do you know what she told me? That I underestimated her. From the day we met, she said. And she was right, she was bloody well right. I have been underestimating her. Thinking she's a child, she's too young to understand anything, that she can't look after herself, that she'd- -she'd let me down."
"She wouldn't," said Sirius.
"I know that," said Lupin sadly. "Now I do. After she threw it in my face. After she threw a lot of things in my face. All of them true. She told me she wanted me and I pushed her away. I'm a fool."
"I can't argue with that, mate," said Sirius, sipping his coffee.
"Thank you, your support means the world to me," said Lupin with a smirk.
"One of these days you're going to forgive yourself for being a werewolf," said Sirius shrewdly. "How far did it get with her, anyway?"
"Sirius."
"Oh, come on, it's me."
"Not far," said Lupin, "but far enough to make me regret I stopped. Or rather that you and Emmeline walked in on us."
"Sorry about that," said Sirius. "We were hungry. Talking so vigorously does give me an appetite."
"I can imagine," said Lupin. "Where is Emmeline now, anyway?"
"Sleeping," said Sirius. "Poor dear, I think I wore her out."
"You're an arrogant bastard, you know that?"
"It's just one of the many things that make me so lovable."
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The weather got colder as autumn arrived in earnest, and the Order became increasingly busy even as regular meetings became more rare.
Lupin had tried unsuccessfully to recruit werewolves for the Order. They were easy enough for him to spot, but the ones he managed to make contact with were skittish around him and all of them refused his offer to join the cause. Many of them were openly hostile to the idea that Voldemort had returned; others thought it might be true but were far too afraid to fight in the open. The two things they all had in common were that they hid their condition from everyone they knew, and that they all had steady employment.
Lupin had not spoken to Tonks much at all. She had not appeared that morning after their row; Lupin was correct in guessing she'd left the house early. But he was stricken to see that she'd taken all her things with her.
She hates me so much she doesn't even want to be under the same roof with me, he thought miserably.
Except that this wasn't entirely the case. Tonks, when she saw him, was always polite to him. Friendly enough. She even managed a few genuine smiles toward him. But their relationship had taken on the pall of two friends who'd had a terrible row from which neither had recovered. From which one party--who clearly owed the other an apology--had not yet done so.
Lupin knew he should, but he couldn't seem to find the energy to do it. He was more and more tired these days; living in Grimmauld Place was taking its toll. The screaming paintings, Kreacher's hateful mutterings, Sirius's dark moods that would come on suddenly and without warning, the utter bleakness of the house itself. All of these things weight on Lupin's mind like a cold, wet blanket. Somehow the idea of approaching Tonks, of begging her forgiveness--particularly when he was not sure he would get it--seemed to be too much for him to handle.
Then there was Sirius. His moods were swinging wildly. He had clearly started up something with Emmeline Vance; when she was around his mood improved. But she was frequently busy, both with her job at the Ministry and with work for the Order. Her visits were infrequent. Lupin's own work for the Order took him out of the house often, as well. Visits from other Order members became more and more sporadic. Thus, Sirius was having to spend more and more time in the house, alone, with dozens of shrieking portraits and a disgruntled, hateful house-elf for company. More often than not, Lupin would return to the house to find Sirius holed up in the room where Buckbeak the hippogriff was being kept. Lupin tried his best to cheer up his friend, but it was a tall order, and Lupin began to fear for his friend's very sanity. Cabin fever was a gross understatement of what Sirius was going through.
And then there was Tonks. Lupin's desire for her had not abated in the weeks since their row. On the contrary, every time he saw her he only wanted more, only regretted more letting her slip away.
Before long it was near Christmas. The air was cold with frost. The days were overcast and more often than not, heavy rain fell. A final meeting of the Order was held in the week before the Christmas holiday. The mood was anxious among the participants. Another wizard had been arrested breaking into the Department of Mysteries.
"Broderick Bode is in St. Mungo's now," said Kingsley Shacklebolt.
"He tried to get it himself, didn't he?" said Lupin.
"Yes," said Kingsley. "He didn't hold onto it long enough to lose his mind completely, mind, but he'll be holed up in St. Mungo's recuperating for some time."
"It had to have been a Death Eater," said Arthur Weasley. "The Imperius Curse."
"Bode would have known not to touch it," said Sirius.
"In any case, once his memory returns, he'll face the Wizengamot, no doubt, and probably end up in Azkaban," said Kingsley. "You-Know-Who is getting bolder, and he's getting closer."
"It's the Potter kid," said Moody. "You-Know-Who wants something to do with that kid."
"Dumbledore said they have a mental connection of some kind," said Tonks. Her hair was short, wavy and platinum blonde tonight.
"Because of the scar," said Sirius. "When Voldemort gave him the scar, he unwittingly forged a mental connection. Whenever Harry's scar hurts, he knows Voldemort's up to something. Angry, happy, whatever."
"Is You-Know-Who aware of this?" said Arthur, concern furrowing his brow.
"It's impossible to know, isn't it?" said Lupin. "But we have to assume if he doesn't, he'll find out. If Harry can see inside Voldemort's mind, it's only a matter of time before the reverse is true."
"So Harry will need some kind of protection," said Tonks. "Some way to keep You-Know-Who out of his head."
A silence went round the table for a moment.
"Occlumency," said Lupin slowly. "He'll need Occlumency."
"Good idea, mate," said Sirius, nodding vigorously. "Dumbledore could teach it to him, he's the best at it. Should we write to him?"
"Dumbledore's probably thought of it already," said Lupin. "And in any event there's no way to contact him now. The school has practically been sealed off by this Umbridge woman."
"She's taken over in earnest now," said Tonks, glancing at Lupin. "Reporting to Fudge hourly."
"How would you know that?" said Moody suspiciously.
Tonks gave him a very satisfied grin. "I have my ways." Lupin resisted the urge to smile.
"The most important thing is that it's safe, and that Harry is safe at the school," said Kingsley. "In the meantime, we're going to need to expand shifts with the holidays coming up. Lot of people traveling. Ministry won't have much to protect it. Arthur?"
"You can count on me," said Arthur. "And Molly."
"And me," said Tonks.
"I'm in," said Moody.
"Me, too," said Bill Weasley.
"I'm in as well, though my wife is going to kill me," said Kingsley. "I was supposed to dress up as Santa Claus this year."
The meeting adjourned, and gradually people filed out of the kitchen. Tonks was putting several rolls of parchment into her bag as she stood at the end of the table. She started to pile them in and promptly dropped them and the bag; the contents of the bag spilled out over the table. Lupin started toward her.
"Bloody hell," she said, rolling her eyes.
"Can I help?" Lupin asked.
"Oh," said Tonks. "Sure. Hi."
"Hi," he said, his stomach clenching. He picked up a scroll and handed it to her; she slipped it into her bag.
"How are you?" he asked, feeling ridiculous.
"Fine," she said stiffly. "Busy."
"Yes," said Lupin, taking another scroll and handing it to her. The kitchen was now empty but for them now; the candlelight was dim. "I've been busy as well."
"Right," said Tonks, picking up another scroll and dropping it.
"Tonks--"
"Don't, Remus," she said, picking up the dropped scroll. "Just--don't."
"Won't you even listen to me?"
"I've already heard all I need to hear from you," she said, but her voice was sad, not sharp.
"No, I don't think you have," said Lupin, wishing she'd stop fiddling with all of her junk that was spread out on the table.
"What is it, Remus?" she said, looking up at him and putting a hand on her hip. "Are you going to beg me to understand? Tell me we really can just be friends? Tell me I'm being childish? Because I've heard it all before, and frankly I don't care to hear it again."
She resumed the collecting of her things, but her hands were shaking slightly, and she kept dropping things on the table. A lipstick. Her brush. A quill. Lupin watched her for a moment and made his decision.
"Tonks," he said softly.
"What?" she demanded, sounding annoyed. She started to put her hands on her hips again, but he didn't give her the chance.
Instead he reached for her and pulled her roughly to him. She gasped, but that, too, was lost as he crushed his mouth against hers.
For a brief moment she stood frozen, and Lupin wondered whether he'd made a mistake. Whether she might push him away, slap him for his presumption. But then suddenly she was kissing him back, opening her mouth, moving her lips and tongue with his. He pulled her closer to him, pressed her against him. They kissed hungrily for several minutes, not coming up for air until Lupin thought he might faint.
"Wait," Remus whispered. "Wait--" He pulled his wand from his robes, pointed it at the door and muttered, "Colloportus," then kissed her mouth again. He let the wand drop to the floor.
His mouth dragged over her face, her jaw, her neck. Her hands snaked inside his robes, tugged at his shirt, pulled it out from the inside of his trousers.
It was in that moment that he knew he couldn't go slowly, that he couldn't take his time. All the years of suppressing this, all the months of wanting her--he couldn't savor it now, not when the need was this great.
His hands moved to the clasp of her robes and tore them open. She gasped again but he was kissing her hard, his hands roaming over her body as the robes fluttered to the floor. Her hands tugged at his shirt, his jumper, pulling them over his head; he paused only long enough to hurl the clothing away, then clasped her to him, kissing her frantically.
He pressed her bottom against the table, then felt his hands grip her bottom and lift her; her arms were tight round his neck and he moaned out loud when she clasped her legs round his waist.
Holding her with one hand, he swept the table free of the detritus of her bag; parchment, scrolls, quills, a hair brush, lipstick went flying, clattering noisily to the floor. He propped her up on the table and his hands went to her t-shirt; like a man possessed he tore it from her. She gave a small cry of surprise but then they were kissing again, his hands on her breasts, around her back, unhooking her brassiere, yanking away from her, tossing it aside.
Her hands were at his trousers, opening the buttons. He gasped with relief as she lowered them, releasing his erection from the confines of the fabric. Her hands were on him, stroking him, driving him mad. He groaned and pulled her to him, grinding his erection against her pelvis, his mouth devouring her breasts. His need became overwhelming.
His hands found her jeans, opened the buttons, tugged at them. His hands moved over her cotton knickers, between her legs, finding the wetness there. She moaned and threw back her head as he stroked her, moved his fingers inside the knickers, but it wasn't enough. He pulled at her jeans roughly.
"Wait," she said suddenly, "my boots."
She pulled her legs up long enough to unzip her boots, let them drop heavily to the floor; already Lupin was yanking her jeans down, down, down. One leg got caught on her ankle; she shook it and the jeans went skidding across the floor.
She pulled her to him, gripping his buttocks, grinding against him. His hands found the elastic of her knickers, and he pulled, tearing them off.
"God, Tonks," he moaned, pulling her against him, his sex seeking hers. Gripping her bottom, he found her sex and plunged inside.
They both groaned; Lupin thought he might lose himself right there. She was so wet, dear god. She held onto him tightly as he began to move, slowly at first, but then faster, driving into her, giving into his own need, feeling his desire spike as she tightened her grip on him, tightened her legs round his waist, tightened the muscles of her sex to stroke him harder. Slowly he leaned over, lowering her onto the table as he thrust into her. Her head thrown back, her arms round his neck, clawing at his back, scratching him. He felt his need building, cresting; he buried his head into her shoulder as he drove into her harder, faster. He felt her nails on his back, felt the sting as they cut his flesh, groaned as her hands gripped his buttocks, pulling him into her deeper and deeper.
"Remus," she cried. "Remus." Her breath like fire in his ear. She cried out and convulsed beneath him.
He felt a cry burst from his throat as the climax took him; his body tensed and shuddered with the release; Tonks sighed and clung to him as he sank onto her, his feet still on the floor, his body bent over hers on the table.
The silence of the room struck him as his breathing slowed, his heartbeat returned to normal. She was beneath him, her eyes glazed, her hair tangled. He pulled himself up, lifted her off her back, and she sank into his arms, against his chest.
"Remus," she whispered.
He couldn't speak. Couldn't think. He held her, caressed her back tenderly, wishing he hadn't rushed, knowing he couldn't have stopped himself.
She looked up at him and smiled. "That was very naughty."
Lupin laughed. He was still trying to catch his breath. His muscles were aching; he went slack as he slipped out of her.
"Was it?" he asked.
She nodded. "Lovely."
"I can't say..." he said, still trying to find his breath, "that I've ever done that...on a kitchen table."
"There's always a first time for everything," she said, laughing softly, brushing back a lock of sweaty hair from his brow.
"Tonks," said Lupin softly. "I'm sorry if--it all happened rather fast--I meant to go slow--"
"Take me upstairs," she whispered, kissing him slowly, teasing his lips with her tongue. "Take me to bed. We can go slow up there."