Hush
By Diet Cigarette
The brisk aroma of burning timber flowed through the dark room. No sun rays pierced the unshaded windows, and the soft sound of crackling wood was the only noise that could be heard over their steady breathes. Ginevra patiently seated herself to the far right side of the sofa while her supposed spouse entered the room from the kitchen, holding a wine glass filled to the middle with a blood like liquid.
Remus held out the spare drink, offering it to her in which she graciously excepted with a small nod.
"What's the occasion?" She questioned him, folding her knees to her chest, restricting the area in which he could approach her. Lowering his body down upon the couch, he sat as close as to the supposed Tonks as possible.
"We always do this, the night before the.. moon," He paused before muttering the last word, his lips tightening just slightly, "Don't you remember?"
"I was just making sure," She smiled, hiding the discomfort she truly felt. She loathed the simple thought of touching him, never mind, him actually touching her. Against her plan for the evening, he grabbed her hand and kissed it while looking deep into her charmed eyes.
Ginevra resisted the urge to vomit, or even to recoil her hand and curse him to hell.
"This always seems to make me tired," She lied, looking upon her beverage and not in the least bit familiar with that was actually inside her glass.
"That's not what I recall," His arm slipped around her shoulders. This caused her to pierce her lips together, while her shoulders scrunched up in tension. She could tell he was trying to be romantic. She felt he was trying a bit to hard - with the alcohol to lower her judgment, the suggestive comments that she assumed he thought would get her in the 'mood'. If only she could scoff.
"Do you want a massage?" He offered, as she looked the other way to avoid his gaze altogether.
"No, no, it's fine," She replied, bringing the ruby drink to her lips, and portrayed what she assumed would make him think she was drinking, but in all reality, her lips never opened. She never took a sip.
They sat for minutes, staring into the burning inferno, his lustful breath against her neck. Quick witted Ginevra Weasley rested her head upon the werewolf's shoulder with self control, and forced herself to snuggle against his chest.
"This is perfect," She whispered, barely audible to the human ears, but quite traceable to the canine's. She closed her eyes, playing the part of a sleeping woman. She prayed to no god that Remus would have the so called compassion he was known for and not allow his raging wolfish hormones to wake her in her false slumber. After long moments of silence, Remus spoke:
"Dora?" He questioned, looking down. She knew Tonks would've corrected him, but a sleeping Tonks would not.
"Tonks?" He questioned again, slightly louder whilst moving just slightly as if to get her attention. She did not move. With a small sign of disappointment, he placed his drink down and looked down to his lovely partner. He smiled, pure joy entering his heart. Ginevra could feel the warmth and love he felt towards Tonks -- it made her nauseous.
With various movements, he somehow lifted her limp body and made the slow walk towards the bedroom in which Ginevra earlier mistook for the bathroom. Her weight was cast down upon the feathered mattress, and she sleepily rolled to her side, which she hoped would be facing the wall rather than the other side of the bed.
The atmosphere in the room changed, and she could pin point his placement around the bed by his movements. He began unbuttoning his shirt, and though Ginevra as to admit she had just the slightest curiosity in viewing the man's bare body, her eyes remained closed.
The slight clink of his belt hitting the floor sounded, and he started to make this way towards the bed. He lifted the blanket slowly as not to disturb his mate and gracefully laid his body next to her own. She did not face him, fore she felt his hot breathe sliding down her neck. A thick chill ran down her body, and she shook softly in reaction.
Within minutes of the movement ceasing in the bed, she slowly found her thoughts drifting from concern and her attentive awareness lifting from her mind. Her once stiff and worrisome body relaxed under the cushioned bed, and she found herself falling into a hopefully dreamless and undisturbed slumber.
Within seconds of her awaited rest, she was disturbed. The quilt that lay over her disguised body was moving slightly, irritatingly moving up and down off of her chilled shoulders and arms. Her eyebrows furrowed in frustration as she had drifted back into reality, and with a grunt, she quickly turned around.
Ready to scold her temporary partner, she quickly lost all thoughts of angry when she too sight upon what Remus was up too.
"You're disgusting!" She shouted, jumping out of bed as she realized that it was his hand causing the distress. His hand, in fact, with pleasuring himself to oblivion. The older, middle-aged man's cheeks turned a bright shade of red, and his eyes stared at her like a deer would in headlights. He stood still, unsure of what move to make next.
Ginevra almost literally jumped up from the bed, and snatching her pillow from off the mattress, "Excuse me, but I don't want to be your audience, I don't remember buying tickets to Wild Werewolves Beat Off," She gagged, her nose scrunched up, as she began to stalk around the bed and head towards the door.
"Dora," He groaned in embarrassment, his free hand smacking his forehead and sliding down his face in disbelief.
"Bugger off, pervert," She growled, gripping her wand that lay tucked away on her hip, snagged into her knickers so it wouldn't fall to her feet. She didn't trust to sleep without it; just in case.
She urged to curse Remus just for the per sake of it; just to punish him for making her queasy. In fact, she almost had, but quickly remembered there was a job at hand. She threw the cotton sack upon the sofa, and threw herself on it. In a matter of minutes, the sight of Remus stroking his member completely left her thoughts.
Arriving at Grimmauld's place, she couldn't help but hold her breath as memories of her former life ran through her mind, filling her thoughts with an infinite amount of 'what if' questions. She didn't want to think such disloyalties, nor did she want to hover her thoughts upon the 'could've', but something inside did not allow her to brush off the images.
The time spent there went almost like a blur, and, consumed in her own selfish reflecting, she hadn't even realized the time passing under her nose. She had bee there almost an hour before even recognizing that Fred and George had been speaking to her for over several minutes.
"Uh, huh," She nodded, without knowing what the twins were speaking about, nor even having the patients to care. She was surprised by her lack of interest in her brothers. She had originally believed that she would be shocked into seeing their faces, perhaps, even amazed, but no emotion stirred in her core as their lips moved at miles per hour. What really amazed her was the fact that they continued to use the old bloody cottage even after Snape had access to the home. She supposed they figured they could take one man down with their ten plus.
Her eyes ran to the parlor, old furniture covered in a thick layer of gray dust which had not yet been cleaned, she spotted her supposed husband chatting it up with her master's foe; her ex lover.
She couldn't help but glare daggers at the now, man, who had deserted her in her most vulnerable, confused time. She felt angry, and betrayed, though, if for a moment she rationalized, she knew that it was Harry who should be feeling these emotions.
"What's wrong with you, Tonks?" She heard the twin to the left say.
"Nothing, me and Remus are arguing," Ginevra replied smoothly. She took pride in herself for being a marvelous liar.
"Aw, about what?" The one on the right said.
"Grow up things," She dully told them both, apathetic to their wants for more information.
She heard Molly in the other room, shouting, and of course, she only assumed acting over bearing as always. She closed her eyes, and faked a yawn, avoiding the very thought of setting sights upon the mother of the young man she murdered in cold blood.
Her own mother; Ron's mother.
She turned her head in the opposite direction from Mrs. Weasley' voice, and gazed around the kitchen in which she had not took a stepped inside in ages. She laid eyes upon her objective past the colored quilted oven mitts, and rusted pans.
Neville stood, fiddling with his precious herbs and harmless plants. She couldn't help but roll her eyes at the pathetic attempt to make friends outside his best buddy, dear grandmamma.
"Neville," Ginevra purred, approaching him slowly and stealthily, such as a lion would her prey.
Sorry this took so damn long, I'm writing as much as possible but I got a new job and it doesn't help that I get major over time. 11 hours a day. D: I got a new puppy too, just everything is not in my favor for writing right now.
NO SPOILERS; Deathly Hollows came out, and it totally contradicts my story but of the fuck well, I'm carrying on and disregarding the seventh book.