Author's Note: You may have noticed I've been gone for a while. Both my partner and I have been severely unwell, and she might need surgery soon to deal with an antibiotic-resistant infection, so I've had a lot on my plate. Hopefully, this is the start of me being back consistently, but we'll see how things work out.
The inside of the club was loud.
It shouldn't have been surprising given how far away they'd been when the music first became audible, but it was the sheer magnitude of loud that shocked him.
For her part, Tonks seemed in her element. The purple-tinted lighting of the club painted her skin a faint violet hue that complimented her hair. It was probably something she could do even without the lights.
Despite the crush of bodies filling the area around the club's entrance, she wove her way through with a grace he'd have never expected from someone so often given to clumsiness. She slipped through without even touching anyone, while he was forced to shoulder his way apologetically through the crowd.
Well, apart from that one bloke who tried to feel up her arse as she skated by, she touched him.
Harry gave the man's downed form his best basilisk stare as he walked past. Although, he doubted it was noticed given how busy the guy was clutching the rapidly swelling lump on his shin from where Tonks' steel-toed combat boot had made contact.
The man's friends noticed and wisely decided that, perhaps, they should help their companion find somewhere else to nurse his wound.
It was only a few moments later when Harry found himself emerging from the press of bodies and out into an area of relatively open space. Looking around, he saw that Tonks had led them to an area of booths and tables away from the main dance floor.
There were already more than a few groups sitting, drinking, and chatting at the tables, and he noticed a group of men about his age shooting him envious looks when Tonks grabbed his arm and dragged him over to an empty booth.
Pushing him down into it, she leaned in close to yell, "I'm going to grab us some drinks! Any idea what you want!?"
The question was a welcome aid in his quest to stop checking the attractive older witch out, "Uh!" He yelled back, feeling more than a little stupid having to raise his voice just to make it clear he was trying to think. "Honestly, I have no idea! I've only ever had butterbeer!"
Tonks laughed, at least, he thought she did, he couldn't really hear her over the music.
"Ok! I'll get you something easy to start off with, don't want to throw you in at the deep end!" He nodded his thanks and in an instant she was gone, vanishing back into the crowd between them and the bar.
Finding himself suddenly bereft of his guide, Harry looked around for something to do that would make him feel less awkward than just sitting at a table all on his own.
The club was large — at least, it seemed so, he wasn't really sure what size clubs normally were. The centre was dominated by an open space lit by various flashing lights and currently heaving with a confused mass of people. Technically, he supposed they were dancing, but the vast majority seemed to be more jumping up and down vaguely in time with the music than anything else.
Then there were the people who were practically humping each other on the dance floor.
He swallowed and looked away, trying not to think about Tonks' promise to dance with him.
It's definitely not going to be that kind of dancing. He told himself sternly. Besides, she's just a friend. And it's barely been a week since what happened with Hermione.
Shaking himself from his thoughts, he turned to study the surrounding booths instead.
One of them still held the group of men who'd been glaring at him earlier, most of whom now looked smug. Probably thinking that Tonks had abandoned him. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes at them.
A few tables over a group of women perhaps a year or two older than him — university students, probably — sat laughing with each other. As he watched, one of them caught his eye before nudging her neighbour. The pair both looked his way and giggled, the second girl raising a hand and waving.
He almost waved back, but then it occurred to him just how awkward it would be if she'd been looking at someone behind him and he settled for giving them a friendly smile and looking away instead.
Thankfully, Tonks chose that moment to return bearing two brightly coloured drinks in tall glasses, rescuing him.
"Sorry for the wait!" She shouted, sliding in next to him at the booth and putting one of the drinks down in front of him.
Putting a hand on his shoulder, she guided his head down and spoke loudly into his ear, "The bar's pretty busy right now! Looks like the muggles are out of uni for the summer!"
He nodded, leaning down himself so he didn't have to yell, "Yeah! I'm pretty sure that group over there are university students." He nodded toward the girls who'd caught him looking at them earlier before taking a cautious sip of his drink.
It was good, fruity and sweet with only the faintest hint of alcohol at the end. He took another longer swig, savouring the flavour and the rush of heat that blossomed in his chest.
"Gone five minutes and you're already looking at other women, huh, Juvie?" Thankfully, Tonks waited until he'd finished drinking to say this, so he didn't end up spraying it all over the table.
"What!?" He yelled, not just to be heard over the music this time. "I wasn't- That's not-"
Tonks interrupted him by cackling, slapping the table heartily before downing half her drink in a single go.
"You've really got to stop making this so easy, Juvie!" He flipped her off in response, taking another long sip of his drink to try and hide his blush.
"I'm not judging if you are!" She assured him, patting his shoulder indulgently. "See anyone you like?"
You, his treacherous mind supplied immediately.
Instead of saying that, Harry took another look around the club, this time paying particular attention to the women.
There were a lot.
Everywhere he looked there seemed to be more, and they all looked good if he was being honest with himself.
"Ha-reee!" Tonks moaned, glancing up at the ceiling in exasperation. "I'm not asking who you want to marry, just who looks good! Think of it as me asking what your type is with a visual aid!"
"I don't think I really have a type!" Harry protested. "I like women who are attractive!"
"You, sir, are clearly not drunk enough!" Tonks said pushing his half-full glass into his hands before downing her own and jumping up out of their booth. "I am going to get us some more and you'd better have finished that by the time I get back!" So saying, she waggled a finger reprovingly before darting off back toward the bar.
Shaking his head at the exuberant auror's antics, Harry raised his glass and drained its contents. Almost immediately, he felt a warm haze starting to suffuse the edges of his perception. Surely, alcohol didn't work that fast, did it?
Regardless of the reasoning, he luxuriated in the relaxed feeling the haze gave him, taking a moment to study his surroundings again. Both groups that had been occupying the nearby booths had gone, although he saw one of the men talking to a woman near the edge of the dance floor.
The booth between the recently vacated ones was now occupied, a group of two men and three women who all looked to be around his age sitting together and talking. As he watched, one of the men said something and the other, as well as two of the girls, each took a swig of their drinks.
This repeated with the girl sitting next to him, although only one person drank this time. Then it was the turn of the girl sitting directly across from him. She frowned thoughtfully, gazing out across the club without actually looking at anything as she considered.
After a moment, her eyes met his.
And then they drifted away again, meandering back toward the dance floor.
Looking away himself, he tried to catch a glimpse of Tonks at the bar and thought he might've seen a flash of pink hair before someone stepped across his line of sight.
Giving up, he turned back to studying the other booth, only to find that the girl was looking at him again. Properly at him, this time.
She was biting her lip distractedly, her eyes narrowed slightly as if she were grasping for something just out of reach. Even when she saw him looking back at her she continued to stare.
Harry stared back.
She was very pretty, now that he was paying attention to her.
Her eyes were a striking blue, framed by a carefully manicured mane of wavy golden-blonde hair shot through with dyed black streaks. Her face was heart-shaped, and she was wearing a black mesh-and-fabric top he did his best not to notice struggling to contain her very impressive bust.
Without breaking eye contact, she nudged the guy sitting next to her and gestured toward Harry with her head, saying something to him.
"Ooh! Busted!" Tonks' voice said directly into his ear, making him jump. "Guess that answers my question of what your type is!"
"She was staring at me first!" Harry protested, accepting the rich amber concoction she pressed into his hands regardless.
"I bet she was, Juvie!" Tonks gave him a teasing once over even as she took a sip of her own drink.
"That's the stuff!" She said, smacking her lips appreciatively.
Raising his glass, he made to do the same but she placed a hand on his arm to stop him, "Careful!" She warned, "This one's a lot more alcohol, so go easy on it."
Nodding, he took a much smaller sip than he had originally intended and coughed as he felt the liquid burn its way down his throat.
"Wow!" He croaked, pounding a fist against his chest, "That is strong!"
"Good though, right?" Tonks took another swig of her drink, somehow making it look easy.
Harry took another drink before replying, finding it much easier now that he knew what to expect. The flavour was strong, and not entirely pleasant, but the feeling of it burning in his chest and the immediate strengthening of his comfortable haze more than made up for it.
"Yeah!" He agreed, "What is this?"
"Whiskey and some other stuff, muggles call it an Old Fashioned!"
"Why?"
"Fuck should I know?" Tonks laughed, "Ask Hermione!" Harry laughed too, Hermione probably would know, even if she didn't drink.
Tonks turned, throwing one of her legs over his so she was more or less facing him, their faces very close together.
The comfortable warmth of the alcohol suddenly felt much too hot, and he was acutely aware of the warmth of her leg through his jeans. Her eyes were hazel today, he noticed, swirling nebulae of brown and green that seemed to be shifting even as he looked at them. Veins of rich seafoam and gold shimmered into being like sunlight on the surface of the ocean.
"Don't look now," she said, breaking him from his reverie. "But blondie's still looking at you." His head immediately moved to try and look at the booth containing the girl in question, but was stopped by Tonks' hand grasping his chin.
"I said don't look, Juvie." He stopped trying and she removed her hand. He tried not to feel disappointed.
"She's arguing with the bloke next to her. He keeps shaking his head like he thinks she's wrong about something."
"Should we leave?" Harry felt an uncomfortable prickling on the back of his neck, the attention was unexpected and unwelcome.
"No, I don't think we need to." Tonks picked up his forgotten glass and raised it to his lips, quirking an eyebrow when he didn't immediately accept the proffered drink.
Flushing, he dipped his head and let her pour the drink into his mouth, trying to ignore how intimate the gesture felt. Especially with her half-draped across him like this.
After what felt like an eternity, she lowered the glass, and he was only half-cognisant of the fact that it was empty. He was feeling a little lightheaded now, the world perceived only at a comfortable distance.
Apart from Tonks, she was so close he could almost taste her.
Unbidden, his eyes flicked down to her lips, his own suddenly feeling very dry. His tongue darted out to moisten them.
"I need to go to the bathroom," Tonks said abruptly, pushing away from him and getting up from the booth.
"OK," Harry nodded, pointedly staring at the wall and trying to calm the beating of his racing heart.
By the time he looked back, she had disappeared again.
"Stupid!" He muttered, pushing his empty glass away to join the others in the centre of the table. "Of course she'd notice you staring at her lips when you're practically nose to nose like that, Potter!"
The club suddenly felt claustrophobic, the music that had almost faded into background noise as oppressively deafening as it had been when he first entered.
"Harry?" Came a new voice, "Harry Potter?" Turning, he found the girl from the other booth standing next to the table and staring at him in amazement. "Is that you?"
He suppressed a groan with difficulty, Of course. He'd been stupid to think there wouldn't be at least one other witch or wizard in a crowded place like this.
"Sorry, no," he said, resisting the urge to flatten his fringe down over his scar. "You must have me confused with someone else."
Surprisingly, this denial seemed to delight her, "It is you!" She laughed. "I told Piers it was! You always had that surly look on your face when you got caught doing something."
"Piers?" Almost certainly not a Death Eater then, he couldn't imagine the likes of Lucius Malfoy being caught dead naming a child 'Piers.'
"Piers Polkiss!" The girl cried, gesturing toward the man she'd been sitting next to. "Surely you remember him!"
Unfortunately, yes. Piers had spent far too many days tormenting Harry with the rest of Dudley's gang for him to forget so easily. He'd changed a lot in the years since he'd last seen him, but — now that he knew what to look for — his face still had that same, distinctly rat-like, quality it'd had when they were children.
"Oh yes," he grunted, turning back to the table and hoping the girl would take the hint. "I remember Piers alright."
Sadly, she didn't take the hint. Or, if she did, she somehow managed to misinterpret it so badly as to derive the exact opposite meaning.
"You look different, Harry," she said, sliding into the booth next to him and leaning forward to study his face closely.
"You too," he muttered, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on her face lest he be distracted by the very interesting things this new angle was doing to his view of her chest.
"You have no idea who I am, do you?" The words were teasing, rather than accusatory, so he didn't bother trying to lie.
"Haven't the foggiest, sorry." His blunt confession brought another laugh from her.
It was a nice laugh, like the delicate tinkling of a crystal bell.
"Why don't we start over, then? Not like we had the best impression of each other the first time." She stuck a hand out for him to shake, "I'm Phoebe, Phoebe Massivetits."
Harry choked mid-shake, "I'm sorry, WHAT!?"
She giggled at his reaction, covering her mouth with her hand, "Sorry! That was mean of me. It's Massowitz, but that's what the boys started calling me in school after these popped up." She cupped her chest through her shirt and flicked her wrists, making them bounce hard enough he thought they might actually pop out for a second.
I can see why, he thought but very wisely didn't say. He wasn't quite that drunk yet.
Drunk enough that it took him a moment too long to realise he was still staring at her boobs even after they'd finished jiggling from her demonstration though.
Snapping his eyes back up to her face, his faint hope that she was too drunk to notice died at the sight of her smile. It was far too knowing, almost satisfied.
"Actually, you left a year or two before they showed up, didn't you?" She patted her chest affectionately, like one might a prize-winning racehorse.
His traitorous eyes dipped once more with the movement of her hand, but he was able to yank them back into line almost immediately. Although not fast enough to stop her smile getting even wider.
"Take three?" She asked innocently, and for a moment he thought she was inviting him to look at her tits a third time. Then he realised she was holding her hand out to shake again.
"Phoebe Massowitz," she said as he reached out and shook it.
"Harry Potter, pleasure to meet you, Phoebe." Her hand was very warm and soft in his.
"The pleasure's all mine, Harry." She smiled again, like a cat that had just caught a particularly tasty canary.
Tonks kicked the door to the bathroom open as if she were breaching a building in urban combat training. Thanks to a quick, and perhaps not entirely legal, application of the Notice-Me-Not charm, she didn't have to contend with the normal queue of people waiting to use the toilet.
Fortunately, she'd arrived just as the resident gaggle of girls had been vacating the sanctuary, so she didn't need to worry about anyone already inside.
Completely ignoring the stalls, she crossed to the nearest sink and splashed her face aggressively with cold water. Maybe that'd be enough to remind her it'd be a cold day in hell before she was actually trying to make a move on a guy young enough to be her son.
You're twenty-four! A voice in her head reminded her. Most people aren't mothers at age six.
He's basically dating my little sister! She countered.
She gave him a blowjob, she could practically feel the voice rolling its eyes. That's hardly dating. Also, she's not your sister, you only met her a year ago.
She still might have feelings for him!
Oh, and you're letting how other people might feel dictate what you do now? Tonks narrowed her eyes at her reflection.
Her reflection narrowed its eyes right back at her.
"Oh, you're good." She muttered.
I'm literally you, you are having an argument with yourself right now.
"Allegedly!" She pointed an accusing finger at her reflection, ignoring the way it mimicked her.
You know that's not what that word- Look, never mind, the point is: you want Harry. Harry wants you. It doesn't have to mean you like him.
"But what if I do!" Tonks moaned, leaning forward to put her elbows on the counter and let her head fall into her hands. "He's quick and funny, he's sweet, he's mature, he's hot, like, honestly, unfairly hot."
He's apparently got a huge cock, the voice added helpfully.
"Not helping!" She hissed, even as she guiltily added another point to the tally.
Just saying, if a voice could shrug, this one did.
"UGH!" She groaned, rubbing her face exasperatedly. "Why couldn't Hermione have asked someone else for advice?"
If she had you wouldn't have written Harry that letter and you wouldn't even be here right now.
"So it's doubly her fault!" She snapped petulantly.
You could solve all this by going back out there, sitting in his lap properly, and just snogging him already. You know he was thinking about it before you left.
"I am not snogging the guy my friend told me she might like literally last week!" She growled, slamming a fist into the counter for emphasis, "No matter how hot he is, or how much I might like him!"
The door to the stall directly behind her, which she belatedly realised had been closed since she entered, swung open. She watched, frozen in place, as a woman perhaps a few years older than her walked out and came to wash her hands at the sink next to her.
Once she was finished, she dried them before turning and placing a hand on Tonks' shoulder, "Girl, we've all been there. I understand you're trying to be a good friend, but, if you like this guy this much and your friend can't make up her mind? I don't think you should wait around for her to figure it out. That's not fair to you or to him." So saying, she gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze before walking out of the bathroom.
Tonks simply dropped her head back into her hands, "And, so, my mortification is complete!" She moaned piteously. Bad enough the woman had heard her talking to herself like a crazy person, why'd she have to come out and be all understanding? Giving her good advice?
The nerve of some people.
"You know what?" She said, looking back up to glare fiercely into her reflection's eyes. "I'm being ridiculous. So what? I like Harry. Harry's a good guy! I'm too old to be thinking that just because I like someone it means we have to spend the rest of our lives together."
She smacked her fist into her open palm, "Damn it, if we want to fool around a bit, then that's ok. I'm just gonna go out there, and whatever happens, happens. It's not like we're gonna fuck." She nodded proudly to herself, turning to leave the room and undoing her charm as she went.
First, though, I'm gonna need another drink. She thought, changing direction almost immediately to head toward the bar instead.
Weaving her way up to the bar with the easy grace of an experienced club-goer, she raised a hand to summon the bartender. One appeared with the swift alacrity such people normally possessed when an attractive woman wanted to order something. Attractive women were how you got people to come into your club, after all.
"Gimme two shots of whiskey," she shouted over the pounding music, holding up two fingers to help convey the message and slapping a twenty down on the bar. The bartender nodded, one hand reaching out to swipe the proffered note as the other fished out a pair of shot glasses.
Leaning back, she snatched a bottle off the shelf behind her without even looking, pouring both shots in a single movement without spilling a drop. Tonks nodded, raising one of her shots appreciatively, even as the bartender stepped away to serve another customer.
Tipping her head back, she downed the shot before slamming the glass down and raising the second to her lips without a moment's pause. Just as quickly as the first, the second shot of whiskey vanished down her throat to join the steadily building fire in her core. She hummed happily, resisting the urge to indulge in a full-on metamorphmagic-cat-stretch even as the familiar haze of inebriation began to suffuse her limbs.
Raising her hand, she called the bartender over again. The tattooed woman inspected the empty shot glasses with a wry grin.
"Long day?" She asked, swiping the glasses and stowing them away beneath the bar.
"Mmm, not really," Tonks hummed happily. "Planning on having a long night though."
"Ah, I see how it is," the bartender laughed. "Got someone in mind already?"
"Oh yes," her smile apparently said more than enough about the person she had in mind because the bartender simply shook her head and chuckled.
"Lucky you, another whiskey?" As she spoke, she reached out toward the bottle she'd grabbed before, her hand hovering a few inches away as she waited for confirmation.
"Make me Naked and Famous," she winked.
"Foreshadowing?" The bartender teased, pulling the ingredients down and mixing the drink with practised ease.
"Hopefully, but not for me," Tonks giggled. She was definitely feeling the alcohol now.
"Oh? Anyone I'd know?" Tonks gave the bartender a once over, looking for a bulge that might indicate she was hiding a wand on her somewhere. She didn't see one, which meant the woman was almost certainly a muggle.
"Probably not."
"Shame," the finished drink slid across the bar and into her waiting hand, her proffered tenner plucked from her grasp in the same easy movement as she turned on her seat to see if she could catch a glimpse of Harry across the club.
Unfortunately, her view was swiftly impeded by someone stepping into her line of sight.
Looking up, she found a tall blonde-haired man inspecting her with the kind of cocky smirk girls tended to find attractive until they realised what utter pricks the guys wearing them were.
Ugh. So what she needed right now.
"Ever had one of those before?" He asked, smiling in a way he obviously thought devastatingly charming. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
"No!" She smiled instead, injecting just the right amount of vapid cheer into her voice to make his smile progress from oily to downright slimy.
"They're good," he slid into the chair next to her, looking at the bartender and gesturing at her drink before holding up two fingers. Two more of those, please.
In a matter of moments, all of which he spent eyeing her like a piece of meat on a butcher's slab, two more of the drinks were sliding across the bar and into his waiting hands. He immediately held one out to her, which she accepted eagerly. Still yet to take a sip of her original drink.
"To new friends," he raised his glass in a toast, his eyes not straying from her chest.
"New friends," she simpered back, finally raising her cup and taking a long drink.
"Oh. My. God." She gasped in exaggerated shock. "That is, like, the best drink I've ever had!" He chuckled indulgently, doubtless thinking something insulting about her intelligence.
"I have, like, got to go find my boyfriend." His expression froze, his mouth half-open as he prepared to deliver his next 'killer' line. "He is going to love this drink." She smothered a laugh by taking another sip of her drink as the realisation he'd just paid for a drink for the guy she was actually interested in twisted his features. "Thanks for the drink, mate!"
She hopped off her seat and was gone into the crowd before he managed to get a word out.
Now she just had to find Harry.
She wove through the crowd toward their booth, perhaps swaying a little more than strictly necessary. She could practically feel the heat of his body against her already, maybe she'd feed him this drink too.
Her arrival at the booth she and Harry had been sharing put her lascivious thoughts to a swift and untimely end.
It was empty.
Harry was gone.
Ok, Tonks, she told herself, looking around the club with carefully forced calm. It's nothing to worry about. You've been gone a while, he's probably just gone looking for you.
The thought warmed the block of ice that had settled in the pit of her stomach. Harry would be the type to go looking for a friend who'd been gone for a couple of minutes too long.
Staggering over to the table in a way that wasn't quite as exaggerated as she would've liked, she placed the drinks down before leaning against it. Her hands slipped beneath and drew her wand from within her jacket. She made a quick series of flicks and swishes, hidden beneath the wood of the table and as crisp as if she were performing them in front of Moody himself.
Instantly, the warm blanket of inebriation faded away as the sobriety charm took effect, purging the alcohol from her system. Her faculties no longer impaired, she began a much more complicated series of wand movements, casting a particularly fiddly and annoying spell: the tracking spell. A standard for any auror regularly sent to track down missing perps.
She, of course, had needed to beg it off Kingsley. The day she was sent to tail a suspect was the day the auror office lost one. Damn metamorphmagus clumsiness.
Spell completed, she stowed her wand away and closed her eyes, focusing on the tugging sensation that had appeared in her gut. It was pulling almost directly away from the table, back onto the heaving dance floor.
Time to find myself a man, she thought, suppressing a chuckle as it occurred to her how happy her mother would be to hear that statement. She'd probably be less so to know the man in question was six years her junior and marriage would be the last thing on her mind once she found him.
Still, beggars can't be choosers, and her mum had definitely been begging her to 'find a nice man and settle down' for long enough to qualify.
Quelling her levity for the moment, she swept across the dance floor like a neon silhouette, few even noticing her passing as she followed the tugging sensation in her gut that indicated Harry's location. That the spell had worked at all was good, it meant he was within a few hundred meters of her, and it was the only reason she hadn't already sent a patronus to signal Dumbledore and damn the witnesses.
Her concern ratcheted up a few knots when she reached the other side of the dance floor, and the spell continued to guide her deeper into the club. Eventually leading her to a set of doors guarded by a pair of men, each of whom could've comfortably fit her entire body twice over inside their torsos.
Unfortunately for them, size was nothing to a trained auror, and she passed between them without either so much as batting an eye.
Hold on, Harry, I'm coming.
Next Chapter: Saturday 15th February
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