Tonks was still glowing a little from her less-than-professional evening with acknowledged bastard, Severus Snape. It had been over a week, and she still caught the scent of him in the air, which she was certain was entirely in her head, because one does not normally smell his particular combination of musk, potions ingredients and fine wine just walking down the street.
The people closest to her, those friends from Hogwarts who too had masochistically chosen Auror training, had noticed this un-Tonks-like aura, and pulled her aside after duty one night to the Leaky Cauldron. They sat at a rustic booth, and after Tom left the gently steaming pitcher of Butterbeer and a few glasses, they pounced. Try as Nymphadora might, she could not throw them off the idea that a man was involved. The terrible blushing didn't exactly help either.
A few nights after that, when she was peeling off her Auror robes, taking care not to touch the singed left cuff that was still thick with corrosive goo, she recalled the meeting at 12 Grimmauld Place. It was that very night. Her cursing quickly switched from the wizard who had sent the ministry a leaky sample of a suspicious, chemically-unstable toilet cleaner to the wizard who was leaving suspicious effects on her cheeks every time she thought of him.
She would see Snape tonight. Not just see him, but sit near him, converse with him, be expected to act as if nothing had happened. She groaned. All he would have to do would be to recognize her voice and she was toast. She had given Dumbledore her complete report, as requested, and for all she knew he was still the only other person who knew what had happened. But what if Snape found out. Would he be angry? Disgusted?
Tonks paced around her cramped living area, knocking over a pile of magazines that she didn't even notice until they were underfoot and sending her feet over head to the floor. Even then, she lay on the floor in a daze while the stars cleared. Firstly, she needed new carpet, this was not nearly thick enough. Secondly, how was she to act around Snape tonight to keep him in the dark? Her spy training acted under the assumption that as a greenie she would not have interacted with the person she was watching, so she was not even formally ready for this situation yet. Thirdly, what if Snape knew it had been her?
She got up slowly, absently testing her body bit by bit for injury as was her habit. Her mind was stuck on question three as she finished changing. What if?
The meeting had just started when Tonks rang the bell outside 12 Grimmauld Place, and after Remus had fought Mrs Black down, it resumed as soon as she entered the room. There were only two chairs left at the large scrubbed table, littered with drinking vessels, plates of crumbs and random documents. Each chair sat to either side of a certain feared and generally disliked potions master.
Bugger all. She slipped into the chair, only banging her knee on the table leg once. He gave her a single dark glance, and turned back to listen to what ever Albus was saying.
" É and then of course the house elves will need to be given wands. Ollivander has agreed, with the understanding that it will be illegal unless Minister Fudge repeals the antiquated notion of
Snape shifted beside her, and a whiff of his scent was carried to her nose. It was going to be a long meeting.
"Tonks, a word before you go, if you've got the time." Dumbledore's voice stopped her at the door, interrupting her conflicting emotions of relief and disappointment. Make time was what his tone implied. She had already said her goodbyes, so she followed the tall wizard into a side study and shut the door behind them.
He settled comfortably into a large wingback chair, and she stood by the window, leaning back against the frame.
"I certain you know why I've asked you here." He pulled a familiar roll of turquoise parchment from his robes.
"The colour does give it away, Sir." She respond, trying to give nothing away.
"What you may not know is that it has always been my policy with Professor Snape to give him a copy of the report from every student who accepts this training assignment.
"It's only fair after allÉ" Tonks said faintly, feeling like the world had slapped her with a dead haddock.
"I've already spoken to Professor Snape about what happened, and he agreed it was most unprofessional.
"Of course, Sir." Forget the fish, the world was downright spinning backwards now. Dumbledore stood up to leave, but turned back at the threshold.
"He also said that he had fun, and said that he had no regrets." With a wink, the old wizard left Tonks sitting in the rapidly darkening study, lost in thought. She turned to the window and gazed out at the unimpressive view of another dingy house, and a pair of squirrels squabbling over a dustbin.
Snape knows. Holy crap. Snape knows. There's no if. Snape knows. What is he thinking? Damn it, Snape knows! Her mind continued to work as she brushed a tickle off of her bare neck. But what was it Albus said? Snape said he had fun, and had no regrets. No regrets, well that's nic- what the hell? Snape said he had fun? Since when does that man know the meaning of fun, let alone admit having it? I watched him for two weeks, and if I saw any signs of him having fun I'll eat my favourite Weird Sisters shirt! Hmm, no regretsÉ does that mean that- The thought was cut off by another tickle on her neck, this one stronger.
She stood perfectly still, listening. There was a whisper of cloth against cloth, and then a warm breeze just below her ear. She shivered in response, her hand rising to meet the tender spot. Hot ghostly fingers clasped hers and guided them back down to the window frame. Then those same fingers gently caressed the length of her pale neck, moved up into her pink spikes before trailing down her spine in a lazy line until they reached the curve of her waist, and rested on her hip. The other hand came up, traced her jaw with a touch so soft that her body shuddered.
Soon arms joined hands, and the heat of lean-muscled limbs wrapped themselves around her like a silk ribbon around a gift, slowly pulling her backwards into a solid mass of warmth. Her breath caught as his characteristic scent flooded her senses, and she felt his hair smooth against her neck as he bent his head down to her ear.
"You know who am I, do you not?" The whisper slid down her skin and she shifted in his arms, feeling him against her back. The rise and fall of his chest as he breathed was chasing coherent thought away.
"Of course." She breathed back, lifting her chin when he nuzzled her neck. She raised her own hand back up and felt along his soft hair until she found his own neck. It too was hot, and a little stubbly. She twined her fingers around loose, invisible strands she knew were the blackest of black. In response, he placed his placed his warm lips against her skin, where her jaw met her neck, and heard him inhale sharply before he began to gently caress the sensitive area. His skilled mouth left her knees weaker with every touch, each hot and whisper soft, until finally she gasped out, unable to control her desire for this seductive creature.
Her gasp undid him, and he responded into her tender arch and into her ear.
Nymphadora." He moaned, and it didn't occur to her to correct him. Some how the horribly pompous and ridiculous name made sense in this situation. She turned herself in his arms, and could feel his heart pounding against her shoulder.
"I want to see you, Severus." His name trembled out of her mouth like quivering liquid. She felt cool air rush against her back as his hand lifted away from where it held her. He spoke the words, and with a shiver became visible once again. The first thing she saw were his polished black eyes, piercing, dark and filled with emotion that on the surface she would call desire. She tipped her head up to meet his incoming kiss, impatient and wanting. His eyes didn't close as his face neared hers, but instead he searched her face for sincerity, for something in her eyes that would give him hope.
Across the room the door knob jiggled.
"I locked and bespelled the door." He breathed, so close to her mouth that she could already taste him. Their lips touched for the barest of seconds before-
"Fred and George Weasley, if I have told you once than I have told you a thousand times that I will not allow for your ridiculous product experimentation in this house! Open this door immediately!" Molly Weasley pounded on the door forcefully, and began to count down from five. Inside the room, the couple's eyes met, and in a heartbeat were apparating into another little-used room of 12 Grimmauld Place.
The mood unbroken, the intensity still peaked, their mouth finally met in a passionate battle to merge themselves through a fiery kiss. Severus pulled her tighter against him, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Thoughts straggled drunkenly through her mind. He's mine, and I'm not giving him up. I want him, I claim him, he's mine. But this is insane. We barely know each other. Oh well, that will come with time. He's so very mine.
His talent at the exercise was evident, and she's never been kissed so thoroughly in her life. When the kiss, if it was possible, was heating up even more, their hands began to wander, and it was then that the door burst open.
A very flustered Molly Weasley stood at the door, wand in one hand, and smashed bottle of Butterbeer lying on the floor below the other.