Nymphadora Tonks and the Seven Deadly Sins
Disclaimer: Not JKR. Enough said. Oh, I also don't own American Werewolf in London or Warren Zevon's song "Werewolves of London."
A/N: Sorry for the delay. I can't think of any really good excuses besides busy/lazy.
Chapter 6 "Lust"
Three weeks had passed since Tonks had admitted her feelings to Remus. They had gone out on a few dates, but nothing more daring than that. Not what she wanted. She supposed she was a complete slag, but she couldn't care less. She was tired of him playing the gentleman. She certainly didn't feel like a lady tonight.
They started out with dinner. Tonks had wanted to get Chinese (just to see if he would order beef chow mein and prove the song true), but Remus had vetoed that idea. He said he was abysmal with chop sticks, and didn't really care for rice and egg rolls, anyway. So they settled on Mexican—something cheap yet satisfying (a bonus with Remus' limited budget but unlimited pride). Tonks ordered the chicken enchiladas. She waited for Remus to order something boring like a burrito or taco, but he surprised her by ordering chicken quesadillas.
"No tacos?" she asked.
He raised an eyebrow. "Am I really that boring?"
She grinned. "No. But you pretend to be."
"Well, every now and then I like to live a little, I suppose."
Tonks eyed the chips and salsa. "Wanna see who can eat the most without a drink?"
"But we don't even have our drinks."
"Precisely," she grinned wickedly. She grabbed a chip, dipped it into the deep red salsa, then shoved it into her mouth. "Okay, that's one," she said after swallowing it. "Your turn."
For a moment she was afraid he wasn't going to do it. Then he took a chip, covered it all over with salsa, and ate it in two large bites.
"How can you stand that?"
He shrugged. "I'm more of a chips and salsa than beef chow mein, I suppose."
She blushed. "I'm sorry, Remus, really I am. I was just curious, you know."
"I do know. Everyone wonders. I prefer Mongolian beef when I do partake of Chinese cuisine."
"That doesn't fit the song, though."
He smiled that little half-smile of his. "No, it doesn't. Nor does a quesadilla. Now eat your chip."
She tried to eat one with the same amount of salsa as the last one he ate, but failed miserably. She could have sworn steam was coming out her ears when the waiter finally brought their drinks. She downed half of it in one gulp.
They ate their food and talked of everything from their school days, favorite music groups (sadly, Remus was not a big Weird Sisters fan, preferring bands of the non-punk variety), and favorite movies.
"You mean you've never seen American Werewolf in London? Why not?"
"Most werewolf movies contribute to the intense prejudice felt by the magic and muggle worlds alike, Nymphadora. I grew tired of them."
"Well, this is different! I love that movie! In it, the guy is shown in a very positive light. I loved every minute of it. You'll really like it." Here was her opening. "I have it at my flat. Why don't you come over and watch it with me when we're done eating?"
He looked at her, a mixture of confusion, amusement, and desire riddled across her features. Just let him figure out her intentions. They were dirty, but she didn't care if he knew that.
"If you're sure…" he finally began.
"Of course I'm sure. I asked, didn't I?"
He eyed her suspiciously. He was beginning to figure her out. "You did. I suppose I cannot refuse, then."
Damn him. He really didn't want to refuse. He just wanted her to think he needed to. Or that he thought he needed to. Prat.
Twenty minutes later, they were at her flat. She opened the door and let him in. "I would have cleaned if I'd known," she'd said apologetically.
But she had cleaned. As messy as her flat was, it had been in a state of utter chaos the day before. She knew she'd be bringing him back with her, but didn't want the cleaning to be too obvious.
"It's fine," he replied. "How could you have known?"
If he was Sirius, he would have been smirking. But, being Remus, it was a half-smile. He was onto her game completely.
She pretended not to notice. "Let me go find the movie."
But she turned to quickly and fell back into his awaiting arms. "Careful, Nymphadora. Don't hurt yourself."
His voice was silky smooth against her ear. Damn the pretenses. Damn the movie. She spun around and kissed him as hard as she could. He matched her with enthusiasm. Her knees were in danger of giving.
Things got quite heated until pieces of clothing were strewn all about the hall. Finally, he took charge and led her to the bedroom. All thoughts of pretense were forgotten, as were intentions of being a gentleman. They found other ways to bond that night…
A/N: I know, you probably wanted more. However, I'm not sure what I rated this, so it can't be too bad. Happy Easter!
Thanks to my beta jwoods471, who needs to finish writing the next chapter of Forgotten Memory so she can write the next chapter of Opportune Mistake.