3. Dusk

When she enters his bedroom, daylight still lingers behind the dusty window panes – watery blue, streaked with pink and orange. The walls are undecorated and bare, no pictures or paintings, no curtains. One of her – very few - Muggle friends once took her to an ancient monastery when she visited her during the summer holidays; the cells of the monks who lived and prayed there had shown a livelier atmosphere.

The bed looks astonishingly comfortable, though… with huge pillows, ample duvets and a beautiful quilt in gentle hues of green and lavender, with delicately embroidered patterns. He sees her surprised gaze and gives a small, crooked smile.

"It is new," he says. "I saw it last week, in a showcase… and when I actually stepped inside the shop and asked for it, the saleslady eyed me from head to toe as if I was a hippogriff." He chuckles. "I suppose I simply don't look like the usual blushing bride collecting her trousseau."

"You bought it for me," she says. It is a statement, no question.

"I… yes, I did." The crooked smile deepens. "Sort of."

He has been trying to send her away, but at the same time he has been imagining her here, stretched on that lovely patchwork cover… and she steps over to the bed and sits down on the mattress, the fabric of the quilt soft like silk under her palms. He stands in the middle of the room, gazing down at her, his eyes filled with an unsettling mixture of concern and hope.

No time for doubts.

Without any further hesitation, Tonks pulls the dark blue shirt over her head. Pink strands of hair obscure her sight, but she shakes her head impatiently. She has never needed any bra; she leans back on the bed, bare to the waist, her skin pearly white, breasts small and firm. Her laughter is promise and alluring challenge at the same time.

"Did you dream of this?" she whispers.

"Merlin. I… Tonks, this… you…" His voice is rough, but in his face there is nothing left but a bone deep relief and utter amazement as he finally gives in to his long suppressed desire. He kneels in front of the bed and she joyfully rises to meet him. He reaches for her, and with aching tenderness his hands follow the hills and valleys of her neck and shoulders.

She studies his face as he touches her, determined not to miss anything. She always thought she knew him, but this man is entirely unfamiliar to her… so much gentleness, almost the shy jubilation of a boy holding a girl for the very first time. She wonders how many women there have been before – if any, given the curse that has condemned him to secrecy and loneliness since the early days of his childhood. But he is clearly more experienced than she is… she feels it in the soft but firm brush of his long fingers, in the warm rain of kisses on her face and on her breasts when his slow exploration melts into something deeper. Heat rises in her body, making her gasp with surprise when his mouth closes over an erect nipple, gently sucking. She trembles and arches against him, overcome by a wave of newly discovered desire, and she barely notices him undressing himself and then stripping off her thin cotton skirt and panties until they are both naked, limbs tangled and skin to bare skin on a surging ocean of green and lavender.

However she expected this to be, it is stunningly different. He murmurs her name; an incantation, a sweet, intoxicating spell that makes her head spin with shivering delight. She wants him closer, closer… she wants him inside her, and she hears her own voice, giving pleading sighs and breathless sobs… and then he turns on his back and pulls her on top of him, gently positioning himself and guiding her until their bodies melt.

For one frozen moment she keeps completely still and finally begins to move, eyes closed, biting her lip in deep concentration. She rises above him and sinks down, moaning helplessly when they find their rhythm and he fills her again and again. The heat within her body has turned to roaring flames, burning a fiery path through her veins until she feels the soft explosion of his climax in her very core and collapses on his bare chest, shuddering under the violence of their united release and the echo of his strangled cry.