Author: zehappyhooker

E-Mail: asbestos_soup@sociallyincorrect.com

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. (Yes, I 'borrowed' this d-claimer from restrictedsection.org…..but can you blame me!? Whew! It is the Dark Lord of all disclaimers, I'm telling you.)

Title: The Fairy Clip
Summary: Tonks offers Harry the chance for them to have a private moment….awww. New Ship in the making, people! And there's seeeeeex. I know how you all love Sex. J
Pairings: Harry/Tonks
Categories: First Time, A Bit O' Customary Angst, and of course, Humor. :P
Notes: This is just meant for fun….I doubt any awards will be waiting in the wing for this fic, though I hope some people will get a bit of enjoyment out of it. J And it's Harry/Tonks! What's not to love!?! Oh…..right…..HET. ;)

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"Harry….could I uh, have a word with you?"

He turned at the sound of his name, and met the dark, twinkling eyes of Nymphadora Tonks.

"Sure." he said, smiling. They had just eaten dinner, and he and the Weasleys were occupied with clearing the table. Things had been slow in the outside world, with a suspicious lack of activity from the Dark Lord and his supporters, so a few members of the Order had chanced to spend the evening at the Black estate for a bite to eat and some conversation concerning the happenings of the past few days.

Or rather, the lack thereof. They suspected that this lax in dark dealings was much like the quiet before a terrible storm, and they were expecting the war to break out any day now. Everyone had been quite tense through the meal, but towards the end they had relaxed a bit and were able to actually smile and laugh a little about things that were blissfully un-war related. Well, everyone but Snape. He wore his customary scowl throughout the entire affair, and said little the whole time. Harry didn't really care, and doubted that the others did either, for that matter.

There was enough doom and gloom in their lives already, without him having to grimly remind them every few minutes of the possibility that they just might lose the Resistance against the Dark Lord. Everyone knew that already, most of all Harry, and it weighed so heavily upon his heart that he sometimes wondered if it would just be better for him to give himself up to Voldemort and spare the Wizarding world the pain of watching their only hope for salvation fall in the Last Battle. But that was a stupid thought.

"Well.…what do you want to talk to me about?" He asked after she had just stood there and looked at him for a moment, her hands clasped tightly together against her stomach, as if in desperate prayer. He was standing at the table, watching Ron thoroughly whip Hermione at a decidedly one-sided game of Wizard's chess. Ginny cheered as Ron's bishop smashed a very disgruntled-looking Hermione's Knight into tiny smithereens. Remus, who was sitting at the end of the table, smiled to himself as he carried on a hushed conversation with Mrs. Weasley. Snape sat in a chair near the door in the hallway, next to the now boarded-over portrait of Sirius's mother, making good work at looking very sour and dire. Harry scowled at him, and Snape sneered in return.

"Actually…I was wondering if we could talk alone. In private. Upstairs." Harry looked at her carefully, puzzled by the nervous tone that was in her voice. She was now wringing her hands, but just barely. He glanced down at them and her hands stilled abruptly. He looked into her face again and she smiled weakly at him. "So, um, shall we?" She said, and it appeared to him that she seemed to be trying to be offhand but was doing a poor job of it. Now that Harry really thought about it, she had been acting strangely the whole evening, all things considered. Oh well. He shrugged and nodded his consent, and was perplexed by the way she seemed to be both relieved and anxious all of a sudden. Was it something he said?

"Alright, then let's go." She said, gesturing towards the staircase. She made to step forward and faltered, stumbling over the hem of her dark purple robes. He caught her in mid-fall, stumbling a little himself with the effort of it, and their noses touched for the briefest of moments. Harry felt something pass between them, imperceptible and fleeting. Now he was really getting confused.

She smiled shyly at him and stepped back, murmuring a quiet "thank you" while needlessly dusting off the front of her robes. He managed a passable "you're welcome", and they were on their way. He happened to glance back at the table and saw that Remus was watching them, his eyes alert, his face strangely knowing. Mrs. Weasley seemed very anxious, more so than her usual level of worriedness.  Ginny, Ron, and Hermione seemed to take no notice, as Hermione had finally managed to command her chess pieces to overtake one of Ron's pawns.

As they passed Snape, his dour face twisted into an expression of extreme disgust. Tonks stared at him defiantly for a moment, and perhaps that baffled Harry the most out of this whole odd evening: kind, amiable Tonks acting scornfully towards another person, even if that person was Snape. It disquieted Harry somehow. He followed her up the stairs, and nearly bumped into her when she stopped suddenly in front of his bedroom door.

"Er…here we are." She said, her voice trying to be cheerful and not quite accomplishing its intended goal.

"Yeah…" Harry said, not liking how pensive she looked. Whatever happened to loud, goofy Tonks? This was a girl that he didn't even know, quiet and furtive. He decided right then that he didn't really like this change in her behavior. There had to be a reason that she was acting this way, though. Of course there was. He assured himself of this as he followed her into the room, sure that this would all be cleared up with whatever she seemed to so badly need to tell him. The sooner the better, Harry figured.

He sat down on his bed with a flop, and watched her curiously. She didn't really seem to know what to do with herself. She made as if to join him, but suddenly acted as if she changed her mind and instead opted to pace about the room. He settled himself more comfortably and followed her hurried movements with his eyes, feeling more and more baffled by the second, and just a tad annoyed that she wouldn't just spit out whatever she wanted to say already. Harry wasn't much for suspense, and usually Tonks wasn't either, or so was the impression that he had gathered of her since his short time in knowing her.

"Harry," she began, not looking at him. "I, well, we, well, mostly me, but the others agreed that, maybe you might—"She paused, obviously tongue-tied. Harry could tell that she wasn't so much at a loss for words as she was at an over-abundance of them, as was sometimes her way. He just waited as patiently as he could, fighting the urge to jump up and grip her arms tightly and shake it out of her. This was really starting to get to him, this unexplained flusterment on her part.

She was almost acting as Ginny had back when she had had that astoundingly ridiculous crush on him in her first year….but that couldn't be Tonks's problem. Of course it couldn't. He was just skinny, short, emotionally-wrecked Harry, doomed to a life of hero-isolation and possible death at every turn. He shook his head, as if to clear it.

He started a little when he felt Tonks suddenly sit down beside him, plopping onto the mattress and nearly sending both of them bouncing off of it.  He shot her a bemused look, pushing his glasses back up on his nose from where they had slipped off when she had so ungracefully taken a seat, and she grinned sheepishly at him. But then her face was serious and quite intent on his, and he felt rather uncomfortable all of a sudden.

"Harry," she said, reaching over and placing her hands lightly over his, surprising him, "I know that this has been a really hard time for you to get through, what with the War coming up and Sirius…passing away-", Harry scowled, suppressing the grief that threatened to flood him until his eyes welled with it at the mention of his fallen Godfather's name, "-and it's more than likely that Hogwarts won't be welcoming students back this year, because of all that's been happening…and, well…" She sighed, her face a bit wistful to Harry's eyes.

Her hair was pink today, and in the pixie style that she had been wearing the first day that he had met her. There was a small clip in her hair of a tiny fairy with violet skin and dazzling green wings in her hair. Harry was struck with the sudden realization of how lovely she looked today, how lovely and sad.

"Harry, I believe, and the others quite agreed with me, well Mrs. Weasley didn't seem too happy with the idea," she said with a wry smile, "and of course Snape just had to be all negative about it…." She glared at nothing in particular as she mentioned Snape, and Harry was freshly taken aback at the look of utter disdain on her face. Sure, he despised the man, but what could possibly make goofy, cheerful Tonks feel that way as well?

"Anyway Harry, what I'm trying to get at is that I know that you haven't had much in the way of girlfriends, too busy I suppose." she said thoughtfully, and Harry had to nod in agreement, even though he had no idea what relevance this had to the situation. There had only been Cho, and that had ended miserably….which basically boiled down to the fact that he didn't still have her as his own, even is she had never been right for him in the first place. "You see, what I'm trying to tell you is that I think that no one should have to go through life without…..experiencing certain things, you know?"

Harry didn't. She saw this and pressed on.

"Well….I mean that, well I figured that, you've never…."

"Yes?" Harry asked impatiently, wanting her to finally say it and be done with it. He was starting to get a headache from all of this. He felt very tired and a bit cross at the moment, and would have liked nothing more than to lie down and fall asleep, Tonks's explanation be damned.

"Had sex." She finished bluntly, managing to look at him levelly, though her cheeks were slightly flushed as she did so. He stared at her, mouth ajar. He realized after a moment that it was hanging open, and closed it with a click of his teeth. This was absurd….and, Harry thought with a sudden rise of teenage male indignation, a bit insulting.

"What makes you think that I'm a virgin?" He demanded, silently cursing the heat that was rising in his face. He must look like an angry Ron right about now, minus the freckles and mad blue eyes. To Harry's surprise (and his male ego's high offense), Tonks laughed.

"Isn't it obvious?" She asked him, eyes dancing. "You had to have been much too busy to give it any more than a passing thought, what with putting up with that foul woman Umbridge, and all that other mess that happened!" Her face suddenly shifted from amused to thoughtful. "Unless Hermione or Ginny—"

"No, no ,no, NO!" Harry cut her off, horror-struck at the thought of anything that involved him and sex pertaining to either of the girls. They had become to Harry like sisters, and he just wasn't one of those kinds of boys. He shuddered a little at the thought. Gods no.

"So I take it that's a yes to the burning question of whether or not Harry Potter's honor is intact. Pity for the Daily Prophet…I'm sure they've been practically itching to get their hands on the story of a juicy sordid love affair between everyone's favorite Golden Boy and a professor and a gang of house elves." She smiled, eyes glinting with mirth. Harry wrinkled his nose.

"You know, you sounded just like Draco Malfoy when you said that….it disturbs me. A lot."

"Oooh, or him!" She said eagerly. "I can see it now!" She removed her hands from his and held them in the air. "Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter: Animosity Overcome By Rampant Teenage Hormones and Forbidden Luuuuuurve!"

"You.Are.Mental." He said, totally deadpan, and they both burst out laughing. Harry hadn't laughed like this in a long time, and it hurt his chest a little, but it made his heart feel good enough so that it was more than bearable. She leaned against him when their laughter has subsided a few moments later, and he thought about how her light weight felt good on his side and his shoulder. She drew in a deep breath and then sighed, lifting herself away from him to face him. Her eyes were dark and her face was solemn.

"What do you think?" She asked, and he found it hard to look into her unwavering gaze. It was intense, inquiring. Adult.

"About what?" He replied, his voice deciding to go hoarse on him at that moment. 'Traitor', he thought.

"You know what." She said quietly. She sidled towards him a little so that the outer edge of their thighs was pressing together. It burned.

"Um…I think…I think….that it's a good idea." He managed to say somehow, as if people everywhere talked so casually about losing their virginity. Maybe they did….Harry had no idea.

"Are you sure?" Tonks asked, and Harry couldn't decide if she looked hopeful or apprehensive, which wasn't very comforting for him. He suddenly thought of her motivations behind her offering him this, but all doubts were driven from his mind when he felt her hand rest upon his leg.

"Yes." He resisted the urge to cringe. He'd done it…well, not It, but rather had agreed to the doing of It, that mythical act that seemed no boy ever tired of discussing or hearing of. Or doing, Harry had supposed. Now that he faced the prospect of a guaranteed opportunity to find out just what all the fuss was about, he wasn't certain how he felt.

Talking and listening were entirely different from doing, he thought with a growing sense of dismay, and he had done absolutely nothing to prepare for this than a bit of kissing with Cho and a lot of wanking and fantasizing in his spare time over the past few years. How in the hell was he going to know what to do when the time came? He needed to talk to another male with experience in these matters soon, and that sure as hell wasn't going to be Ron, he thought with a distracted ghost of a smile. Perhaps Moony or even Bill would be round and he could pull them aside, and then he could ask them all about—

"Harry?" Tonks's soft voice derailed his train of thought, and he looked at her. Her face was calm and concerned and quite pretty with her large eyes, delicate brow, and curved lips. Harry wished that she would leave now so that he would have some time to think to himself. This was suddenly all too much for him.

He had never been really aware of Tonks before. He had known that she was female and easy to look at and be around and talk with, but he had never really been aware of her before now. Now he saw her for what she was: a woman, a creature of soft features and powerful substance, something totally unknown to his hands and body and heart. He swallowed.

"Yeah?"

"Are you okay?" Her voice was full of concern, and she placed a hand on his shoulder, probably in an attempt to reassure him. Her palm was very warm and it helped.

"Yes….I'm just a little surprised, is all. It's not every day someone offers to take my virginity." He said, a corner of his mouth tugging up into a half-smile. Tonks grinned at him.

"Well, of course not. Otherwise I would expect you wouldn't still have it." He could tell that she was highly amused, and it gladdened him. When she was smiling she was familiar….it was when she stopped that she became a stranger to Harry.

"Yeah, I guess so." He said, and laughed.

"Well alright then…." She replied softly, leaning towards him. He could feel the pillow-like swell of her bosom press into his shoulder and suddenly shied away from that mysterious softness as if it had scorched him. In a way it had.

"What's wrong?" She asked, doe eyes looking at him from under dark lashes that he had never remembered being so long before. Perhaps she had changed them to please him. The thought made his cheeks want to burn.

"I don't…I can't-" He stammered, not sure of how to tell her that this was way too fast, not fast enough, and so surreal that it couldn't be anymore than one of his strange, jumbled dreams that he woke up from with a jolt, sweaty and excited and frustratingly unsatisfied.

"You don't find me attractive, huh?" She asked quietly. He opened his mouth to protest, but she stopped him with a touch of her fingertips to his clumsy lips. "It's alright, I can change, you know. Who do you want me to be?" She asked shyly, looking at him sidelong.  Harry stared at the gentle curve of her jaw line.

"No! No." She looked startled. "It's just that this is happening really fast, and you've just kind of caught me off guard, that's all." He said, feeling very apologetic. "But I do want to, really." He added, hoping that it would wipe the hurt from her eyes. What was happening here? What the hell was he doing? Why in the hell was he not doing what she had suggested just a few minutes earlier? Harry felt very tired, and quite a bit older than when they had been downstairs eating dinner and life had been as normal as it gets for Harry Potter on any given day.

"I think that you need to learn that you don't always have to have your guard up, Harry." She whispered, and unclasped her robe and let it slide from her shoulders. His eyes roved over her pale skin, lingering on the two firm-looking swells of her breasts that were visible above her brassiere. He suddenly felt very young and fully awake.

"Come here," she said softly, reaching her arms to him. He noticed with a keen eye the way her breasts jiggled slightly with the motion of it. He moved into her embrace, closing his eyes at the sensation of the yielding cushion of her bosom pressing into his chest. She pressed her lips against his neck, and he felt her warm breath on the nape of it. He shivered, and it felt delicious as the sensation danced up his spine and made every nerve in his scalp sing.

After a moment she pulled away, and Harry reluctantly let her. Her body was soft and her skin smooth, and she smelled like the Muggle strawberry soda that he had stolen once from Dudley when he was eight and the stifling heat of summer had parched his throat and made him bolder than he had ever dared to imagine being.

He had scurried into his cupboard with it, for once glad for the confinement and temporary safety. He had sat on his cot and just savored the aroma of the bright red drink for many minutes, delighting in the sharp, sweet scent of it until he could bear waiting no more and drank it all in three delicious gulps that cooled his dry throat and stung his neglected taste buds. This time he hoped that he would be able to hold out longer, to take his time so that the taste would still satisfy him without stinging him for his inexperienced haste.

She kept her eyes on his as she grabbed the hem of his old t-shirt, and smiled coyly before she began to tug it off with a series of small and insistent jerks. He lifted his arms automatically, for some reason thinking that Tonks was the only person that had ever undressed him because they had wanted to, and not because he was a stupid, useless little boy that didn't even know how to properly take care of himself, as if he weren't a burden enough.

"Oh, bugger." She muttered when his glasses caught, and he smiled to himself behind a mouthful of cotton as she maneuvered the shirt so that she could pull his glasses off. She managed to remove it a moment later, and he grinned goofily at her as he felt his hair wave around, crackling with static. She giggled, swishing her hand through it so that it swayed this way and that.

"You like that?" He asked, and chuckled when she nodded her head fervently, a huge grin on her face. It faded though as soon as her eyes traveled to his chest. He felt the urge to cross his arms over it and didn't, not wanting to look like the insecure git that he was.

"Oh, Harry," she murmured. "You're so thin." And he was. He had never been much to begin with, and that paired with his lack of an appetite since Sirius died had taken its grim toll on his already-slight body. She ran her hands over his protruding ribs on each side. "Oh, Harry", she murmured again, and leaned in and softly kissed the middle of his scant chest.

He swallowed hard against the lump in his throat, touched and saddened by the tender gesture. He reached a hand to tentatively run his fingers through her hair, amazed at the softness of it. Her hair was very fine and very fair, so unlike his thick, coarse locks. He wondered suddenly what her natural hair color was, but the thought was forgotten when he felt her pulling at the button of his trousers. His breath caught in his throat when she slowly tugged them down off of his hips, and he sat back to help her pull them off of his legs completely.  She glanced at his underwear and then looked up at him, one brow arched.

"Y-fronts, eh? I never would have guessed." She grinned at him, and it was quite impish.

"Why would you say that?" He asked, his mind preoccupied with the fact that he was sitting practically naked on his bed with a topless grown woman who was willing and obviously not very picky.

"Well, I just figured that since you've lived with those control-freak muggles all your life that you would want a bit of freedom." She replied loftily, tossing her head and smirking at him, apparently very pleased with her own wit. He struggled to think of something clever to say, and grasped the first thought that popped into his mind like a very thin man does to a tree in a gale-force wind.

"Sometimes I need just some extra control," he replied, and then felt his cheeks twinge as blood rushed into them. She gave him a sly look.

"Why's that? Afraid that a certain Potions Professor might catch a glimpse of the evidence of your desire poking through your school robes?" She asked, her expression smug, mouth quirked into a significant smirk.  He gasped, totally affronted, and pounced on her with a growl and flash of skinny pale limbs. She screeched joyously as he wrestled her to the bed, straddling her while laughing.

"Oh, you're going to pay for that one! PAY!" He shouted, tickling her ribs, ears heedless of her hollered cries for mercy.

"Gerrof!" She squawked, laughing in the hysterical manner that one does when they are quite enjoying themselves even though they are being tortured mercilessly. She was thrashing about, not really making any honest attempt to push him off of her, when she abruptly stilled. Harry stopped moving too, wondering what she had quieted down so suddenly for, when he felt it. He had an erection and it was currently pressing into the soft flesh of Tonks's belly. When did that happen? He hadn't realized that he had gotten so excited, but apparently he had. Made sense if you thought about the particular situation he was in, really, but it didn't make him feel any less nervous and sensitive and quivery to realize that.

She studied his arousal for a moment, and then flicked her eyes up to his face. He held his breath, seeing that she was by no means nervous, judging by the calculated look she was giving him. 'She knows this, she knows what to do, and she'll show me', that's what that look said. He felt one of those sinfully good shivers run up his spine again.

She suddenly rolled him swiftly off of her, and now she was the one straddling him. He stared up at her in surprise. He had no idea that she was capable of any graceful movements, and that sure as hell classified as one in his book. She watched him watching her, seemingly content to just let him look at her for the time being. Harry noticed that her bra was violet in-laced with green, the same colors as the fairy pin in her hair. He thought it odd that he hadn't noticed the colors of it beforehand, and suddenly appreciated the knowledge in the old saying 'He couldn't see the forest for the trees'. Well, apparently Harry Potter couldn't see the brassiere for the breasts.

He began to smile at his own thoughts, but that smile turned into a convulsed swallow as Tonks reached around and unclasped the clasp of her bra, freeing her breasts. They bobbed for a moment and then were just there, bare and pale, her nipples small pink islands in the middle of the swells of her bosoms.

They were by no accounts gigantic or even very large, but Harry thought them perfect at that moment. They were not the first naked breasts that he had ever seen, as many magazines of both the muggle and wizarding kind had been passed around in the Common Room between the boys often late at night (and changing in a semi co-ed Quidditch locker room had its decidedly carnal if not irregular perks of seeing glimpses of a careless female player's breasts), but these were the first breasts that he had seen that were up close and his to touch.

It dawned on him them. 'I can touch these', I can touch her', but even after the thought had came and settled itself in his mind, he couldn't quite act. But then Tonks had seized his hand and placed it gently on her left breast, and now he very much could move, and move he did.

He scrambled up hurriedly, so that he was kneeling before and now against her as she pulled him closer, his hand squeezing and kneading. Every motion of his hand seemed to go straight to his cock in little bursts of pleasure, and he wondered what it felt like for her, to have his hand on such intimate property of hers. Did she like it? Was he doing it right?

He obviously was pleasing her, as she tilted her head and pressed her lips to his, wrapping one around his waist and pulling their lower bodies together, making small noises in the back of her throat. All he seemed to be able to do was breathe shakily in between kisses, not really knowing what to do with his tongue but pressing it forward to meet hers anyway.

He was now moving his hips against her in time with his gentle squeezes of her breast, closing his eyes and concentrating on the sensations of her sucking on his neck and on his earlobe. She reached up and grabbed his hand, stilling it, and he had the insanely miserable thought that she had had enough and wanted to quit, but no, she was instead moving his thumb with her fingers against her stiff nipple, murmuring "like this" into his ear with a puff of warm breath.

He complied, amazed at the way her hips would jerk spasmodically into his as he rubbed it firmly, changing his direction every so often. His cock was so hard it was beginning to feel quite painful, and he was quite sure as to what he would like to do with it, though he wasn't certain as to how to get to that point. This seemed like a good enough start, so he kept with it.

Then she was gently winding her fingers in his hair, which was a bit too long as it hadn't had a proper cut since the beginning of the summer and was untidy even for his standards, and pushed his head down towards her breast. Oh, this was good. He should have thought of this long before she had to show him.

He took her nipple into his mouth, his cock twitching dangerously, threatening spontaneous orgasm if he didn't concentrate on keeping his control. But it was so hard to think about anything but yanking down his underwear and stroking himself off in a few firm strokes as he suckled her, drinking her low moans as he had his mother's milk when he was an infant.

He used his tongue, pulled back and blew on them, alternated from breast to milky breast. He did all of the things that he had secretly fantasized doing to a woman when he was alone with no romantic company but his hand, and closed his eyes and groaned under his breath as he gently grazed a nipple with his teeth, thinking of all the times that that was often the last act that sent him over the edge when he indulged in his breast fantasies. She whimpered and clutched his head and he did it again, and suddenly he remembered that there was even more to a woman's body than this, something that was rumored to be hot and moist and in many cases very penis-friendly, and he wanted to be there now. He needed it.

He pulled away from her, wrenching his head from her tight grasp, caring very little about the hair that had tore free in her clutched fists. It wasn't important now, and besides: it would grow back over night anyway.

He took hold of her slim hips in each hand, half-pushing, half-pulling her down, part of him hoping that he was not being too forward and the rest not caring if he was. Tonks seemed not to care either, as she hurriedly lowered herself on her back, hands groping for purchase on his. She spread her legs and scooted down towards him, and he crawled to settle between her thighs, knowing that his bony hips couldn't possibly feel at all comfortable, but she held him there and kissed him hard on the mouth and he was not about to ask if he should move.

He pulled away from her after a moment, panting slightly, and pushed himself up with some difficulty to a kneeling position before her. He leaned to look down at her underwear, which happened to match her now forgotten brassiere. Seamus had told him that that was the secret way of knowing that a girl wanted to shag, that she would wear a pretty pair of panties that she would otherwise not wear for herself. Harry wondered for a moment if she had worn these just for him, or if women actually wore such undergarments for their own secret uses. But then he was sliding them down and she was lifting her rear to help him get them off, and he really didn't care much anymore about the whats and why-fors of witches' choices in underclothes.

For a moment he thought that the low light was making his eyes play tricks on him as he looked down at her for the first time….it was almost as if….

"Pink?" He croaked, looking up at Tonks's face with an incredulous expression. She laughed, a low and husky sound, indulgent in its own languid humor. "May I ask why?"

"And may I ask why not?" She replied, rolling her hips and stretching, her back creating an archway against the mattress for a moment. "Now where were you?" She asked with a brazen grin, spreading her legs wider, giving Harry a full view of what she had offered to him just at the beginning of this evening. Harry, his mind somewhat his own again, stared….and stared….and stared a bit more just for good measure.

"Come on, Harry," Tonks coaxed in a low voice, "It won't bite….though that would be rather funny." She added as an afterthought.  He smiled weakly, and licked his lips. He felt nervous again for some reason, and hesitantly ran his fingers down one pale, soft thigh.

Tonks sighed and breathed something unintelligible, which instantly replenished Harry's boldness and overwhelming curiosity to touch her in her most private of places. He reached past the absurdly pink curls, and down to the area that felt as if it were radiated heat from its very core. He tentatively pressed his middle finger there (his longest, for some reason that had an important significance in his mind that he did not quite understand), and exhaled unsteadily as he felt it slide into warm, sticky wetness. He heard her suck in her breath sharply, and did his own when he felt her walls tighten around his finger when she did so. He swallowed and pressed his finger in deeper as Tonks lifted her hips to better the angle of penetration.

He soon learned, with a sort of slightly grossed out awe, that the inside of a woman was not at all how he imagined it. Instead of being smooth and soft, it was rather textured and slimy. Also, it was much tighter than he thought it would be, which he figured was probably a good thing, at any rate.

He got over the tiny disappointment of his imaginings being not quite reality, however, when he realized that he had his finger in Tonks. And after a minute of slowly pushing and pulling, in and out, in and out….'I'm fucking Tonks with my finger'. 

He delighted in the way that she was moving her hips in time with his motions, and in the small noises she was making, the way her stomach and thigh muscles twitched and in the way she tightened when he must have hit a particularly good spot inside her. The whole time he was doing this there were wet sounds coming from there, and for some reason they made his cock twitch and tighten from just hearing them.

And the smell of her….it made him want to abandon this little show and get on with the main attraction, so to speak. Her arousal was a bit like his in scent, though hers was much sweeter smelling, and a hell of a lot more enticing, which made sense. She grabbed his hand and withdrew his finger, and before he could even ask what she was doing she had muttered "here" and was pressing his finger against a firm nubbin of flesh above her slit.

He rubbed it experimentally, thinking he would much rather be sticking his finger back where it was before it was so rudely interrupted, but then Tonks jerked her whole body and made a noise that sounded like some type of wild animal in heat, and suddenly this little piece of flesh was much more interesting.

He has heard about this, he recalls suddenly, from whispered conversations wherever adolescent boys happened to congregate. He had scarcely believed it when he heard it, but the Weasley twins swore on their own wankers that it was true, that such a thing existed underneath a girl's skirt, all the girl's skirts….even under the female Professors' long robes. Harry had shuddered and exited that discussion as quickly as his feet would take him.

But now all he has to think about is it belonging to this young woman, sweating and jerking and crying out what he thinks might be his name in strange, strangled tones. He carefully strokes it faster, remembering that Fred had told him not to over-do it on the pressure or he was liable to get a knee in one of his eyes. Harry understood now why Fred had been sporting so many black eyes back when Harry had first come to Hogwarts….the red-headed boy must have had to learn the hard way.

Suddenly she seizes up, her whole body is rigid, and Harry is alarmed that he has done something wrong, has hurt her in some horrible, unforgivable way. She arches her back and cries out sharply, and then suddenly seems to melt back into the mattress, hair mussed and face unmistakably satisfied. He realizes with a sense of awe that he has just witnessed another one of the great secret topics of boyhood: The Female Orgasm.

It is spoken of with that sort of reverence, with capital letters, and that is perhaps one of the most fortunate differences for witches between Wizards and Muggle men: their pleasure is a source of wonder and respect among them. Harry realizes another thing: he had brought this amazing thing to be, had created it with his very own finger. He swells with an unexplainable sense of great pride, but it is shadowed by his own impatient need.

He reaches for her, moves to cover as much as he can of her with his own skinny, slight body, and she moves to accept him. He braces himself on one elbow above her as he frantically pushes down his underwear with the other, but it is an awkward position and she has to reach down and help. He doesn't bother with even kicking them off, just leaves them to dangle somewhere between his calves and ankles as he lowers himself to rest now on both of his elbows on either side of her ribcage, still awkward but not nearly as much.

He instinctively pushes forward into that slick warmth, but gets lost somewhere along the way and ends up sliding either up or down and never in between, where he so aches to be. She has to reach between them and grasp his cock in her hand, which is difficult because of the slight height difference, she being taller by nearly two inches. But somehow they manage, and now he's sliding in, and she's murmuring half-words and noises that he can only allow himself to interpret as encouragement.

He knows that he's not as well-endowed as he should be for a boy his age, knows it from the furtive glances he would take at his roommates while they were changing or showering, realizes that he may never be of average size in any respect, but somehow he knows that that doesn't matter right now. This moment is for him, and only him, and Tonks is giving it to him and he is taking it, with three quick thrusts and a groan. He bites his lip and moves very slowly inside after he cums, the sensation a mixture of pleasure/pain that he finds to be oddly satisfying.

He lays on her for a moment, just breathing, both of them just breathing and thinking about what this means, or if it was meant to mean anything at all to begin with. But then he shifts and he feels the compulsion to pull out, and as he does there is an odd squelching noise that Harry doesn't really like but is too weary and pleased with himself to bother to think about.

He lies on his side next to her and it is silent for a long moment, but he can hear her breathing and faintly feels her heart beat somewhere against his arm that is still draped over her, and it is alright. He is feeling sleepy and is seriously contemplating just nodding off naked and tangled together with her in this mess of bed sheets and limbs and post-sex fluids, but then he feels her stir and feels suddenly awake.

She begins to gather her clothes, pulling on her brassiere while Harry watches her on the bed, not caring to retrieve his own garments at the moment. But then he looks down and notices his briefs around his ankles, and absently pulls them back on. He glances up in time to see her eye her panties with great distaste before wadding them up and stuffing them into her robe pocket. She pulls that on and runs a hand through her messy hair, looking very tired and a bit confused.

She looks at him and smiles, and though it is a little cautious it is a Tonks's smile nonetheless, and Harry is at once relieved. Perhaps things don't have to be 'weird' or 'just not the same', or any other little euphemisms that he has heard around the school after people have shagged each other that simply means when it gets down to it, 'I just don't care for that person anymore, if I ever did to begin with'. 

He is hopeful that this will not be so with him and Tonks. By all appearances, it seemed that she was thinking along those same lines, as she was studying him with a thoughtful expression as she clasped up her robes.

"Harry-," she begins, but says no more. She just shakes her head and comes to him, reaching her hand out and mussing his hair. He doesn't mind, happy to be the recipient of her carefree affections, and knowing that she couldn't mess up his hair possibly more than it already was even if she tried. He smiles at this thought.

"Well, I guess I'll see you around….that is, if we actually both are still around to see each other," she says with a cheeky grin. Even though her hair is messy and her cheeks are speckled with red, he thinks she looks marvelous. He feels suddenly shy, despite all that they have just done, or perhaps because of it.

"Yeah, I guess so." She pinches his cheek, and he sticks his tongue out at her. She is smiling when she turns to leave.

"Hey! Tonks?" He says suddenly, not quite sure what he's doing but needing to do it anyway. "Do you think if we are still around maybe we could, you know….again….some day?"  She turns to face him, and he can tell she's trying to fight to make her face look as if she's considering it carefully.

"I guess we'll just have to see," she says nonchalantly after a moment, tipping him a wink. He grins.

"Good….that way I'll have something to live for, since between Snape's bitchiness and Ron and Hermione's constant bickering, I'm running out of reasons to!" She bursts out laughing and runs clumsily to him, flinging her arms tightly round him. She kisses his cheek and then steps back, eyes sparkling.

"It's been fun, Harry, really."

"Yeah, it has." He pauses for a moment, trying to find the right words to tell her how he feels and can only think of one thing to say. "Tonks….thanks."

"You too, Harry. You too." She seems to have a sudden idea and pulls the fairy clip out of her hair, and brushes Harry's bangs aside to show his scar. She secures them with the clip. "Oooooh….pretty Harry." She coos at him, and he makes a face at her and bats his eyelashes.

She laughs and walks out of the room, and Harry watches with a mixture of alarm and amusement as she nearly trips over her own feet and down the staircase. She stops herself just in time. Harry stands outside his door and listens to her go, and right before he closes his door for the night he hears Snape growl in disgust:

"It took Potter that long? Ugh….don't even speak of it. Stupid girl….I hope you realize that you're now infected with Essence of Potter, do you have any—"

Harry shuts his door firmly with a smile, hoping that Tonks has better luck with dealing with Snape than he ever does as he gingerly caresses the fairy clip in his hair.