Title: After the War
Author: Anath de Malfoy
Pairing: Olympe Maxime/Nymphadora Tonks (my femmeslash OTP)
Rating: R
Summary: After Voldemort is finally defeated, many years later two bereaved survivors find solace in each other's arms
Warnings: Femmeslash, angst, h/c, AU, character deaths (not main), poetic weirdness
Possible Spoilers: Books 1-5
Disclaimer: All characters and profits belong to J.K. Rowling. The love lives of said characters are mine!
[Tonks' POV]
Although the wounds I sustained in the last battle against the Dark Lord Voldemort make it too painful to transform my entire body these days, it always coaxes a rare peal of rich and vibrant laughter from my lover when I change the colour of my hair at will. Bright amethyst purple, carnelian red, the midnight sheen of onyx and the palest blue of delicate lace agates that Olympe set with pearls in the brooch shaped like a mermaid that she gave me for my fortieth birthday last week.
Jewels in their many shades - they reflect the hard, cold beauty of the life we have pieced together from the shattered remnants of our former worlds. Beset by bouts of severe pain as I am, I can no longer be an Auror; Olympe has retired as Headmistress of Beauxbatons to care for me, and for the orphans who are now our foster-children. Young giants, the sons and daughters of those who turned against Golgomath the Gurg and died at the hands of his followers... Here in the tranquillity of an alpine land, Olympe and I now make our living by sculpting and selling crystals for both magical and decorative purposes. And I do what I can to help Olympe teach our towering adopted offspring giant ways. She is so proud of them - their strength, their fierce passions, their magnificence... so like her own. She no longer denies the giant blood in her own veins, just as she now accepts that she can love a woman just as much as a man.
So many years since He Who Can Now Be Named Without Fear was slain by the Boy Who Lived, but only now are we beginning to find our smiles again. We lost so much before we found each other, discovering comfort in each other's arms. She lost her beloved Hagrid, who had promised to marry her when Voldemort was vanquished. And I lost my sweet wife of several years, my Emmeline. I still keep the rings we exchanged on our bonding day, in a black velvet box wrapped in blood-red silk, buried deep in a secret compartment of my old school trunk. It would grieve my lover so if she discovered them...
Both of us know that we cannot replace our long-dead loves. But through our times of desolation we have come to discover the sweetness that is each other. The ravenous lust that burns inside me every time we kiss. The waves of heat and dewy moisture flowing over my hand as it curls and pushes into her. The scarlet indents left upon her soft flesh by my vicious teeth and fingernails. The burning, stretching ache as she explores my anal entrance with her skilled yet massive fingers...
This is our life now. And though there are days when we weep for those now dead and gone, and for the scars our minds and bodies bear, this life, though tinged with sadness, has a beauty made more precious by all that we have sacrificed.
~ Fin.
Author: Anath de Malfoy
Pairing: Olympe Maxime/Nymphadora Tonks (my femmeslash OTP)
Rating: R
Summary: After Voldemort is finally defeated, many years later two bereaved survivors find solace in each other's arms
Warnings: Femmeslash, angst, h/c, AU, character deaths (not main), poetic weirdness
Possible Spoilers: Books 1-5
Disclaimer: All characters and profits belong to J.K. Rowling. The love lives of said characters are mine!
[Tonks' POV]
Although the wounds I sustained in the last battle against the Dark Lord Voldemort make it too painful to transform my entire body these days, it always coaxes a rare peal of rich and vibrant laughter from my lover when I change the colour of my hair at will. Bright amethyst purple, carnelian red, the midnight sheen of onyx and the palest blue of delicate lace agates that Olympe set with pearls in the brooch shaped like a mermaid that she gave me for my fortieth birthday last week.
Jewels in their many shades - they reflect the hard, cold beauty of the life we have pieced together from the shattered remnants of our former worlds. Beset by bouts of severe pain as I am, I can no longer be an Auror; Olympe has retired as Headmistress of Beauxbatons to care for me, and for the orphans who are now our foster-children. Young giants, the sons and daughters of those who turned against Golgomath the Gurg and died at the hands of his followers... Here in the tranquillity of an alpine land, Olympe and I now make our living by sculpting and selling crystals for both magical and decorative purposes. And I do what I can to help Olympe teach our towering adopted offspring giant ways. She is so proud of them - their strength, their fierce passions, their magnificence... so like her own. She no longer denies the giant blood in her own veins, just as she now accepts that she can love a woman just as much as a man.
So many years since He Who Can Now Be Named Without Fear was slain by the Boy Who Lived, but only now are we beginning to find our smiles again. We lost so much before we found each other, discovering comfort in each other's arms. She lost her beloved Hagrid, who had promised to marry her when Voldemort was vanquished. And I lost my sweet wife of several years, my Emmeline. I still keep the rings we exchanged on our bonding day, in a black velvet box wrapped in blood-red silk, buried deep in a secret compartment of my old school trunk. It would grieve my lover so if she discovered them...
Both of us know that we cannot replace our long-dead loves. But through our times of desolation we have come to discover the sweetness that is each other. The ravenous lust that burns inside me every time we kiss. The waves of heat and dewy moisture flowing over my hand as it curls and pushes into her. The scarlet indents left upon her soft flesh by my vicious teeth and fingernails. The burning, stretching ache as she explores my anal entrance with her skilled yet massive fingers...
This is our life now. And though there are days when we weep for those now dead and gone, and for the scars our minds and bodies bear, this life, though tinged with sadness, has a beauty made more precious by all that we have sacrificed.
~ Fin.