“Hey Tonks, how’s Harry’s training coming?” George asked as they all sat around the Christmas table at the Burrow.
Tonks looked up with a mischievous gleam in her eye and looked at Harry for a moment before answering. “He’s doing very well, learning all the tricks.” She smirked at him before continuing, “We expect he’ll soon be among the best and brightest.”
Harry glared at her as the rest of the table guffawed. Ron said something further about Auror training, but Harry and Tonks weren’t paying attention. Harry continued to glare at her and when she sensed she was no longer being watched by anyone else at the table, she bowed her head demurely.
The table carried on in loud and boisterous conversation, catching up with everyone’s news even though barely a week ever went by that they weren’t all together in one form or another.
To the casual observer, it might’ve looked as if life had gone very much according to plan after the war. They had buried the dead with memorials after memorials, the rebuilding of Hogwarts, Gringotts and Hogsmeade were almost complete and people were getting on with their lives in very much the same paths they’d always been. Ron and Hermione were happily together and negotiating nuptials, Bill and Fleur were expecting, Charlie and Oliver were secretly dating and Ginny had decided instead of finishing Hogwarts that she would take a year off and train with the Holyhead Harpies.
That was the first small sign that certain things were not going according to plan, not at all. No one talked about what had happened to Harry and Ginny because no one talked about what had happened to Harry. How he had reacted to the end of the war and how long it had taken him to come back to them slightly less broken then when they had last seen him, but broken none the less.
For months after the war, the press had hounded him for interviews, for insights, for the retelling from the only one who had seen it all. The constant badgering of someone who had always avoided the public eye had been the easiest way to explain Harry’s behavior when he locked himself away and wouldn’t go anywhere, or talk to anyone.
Ron made sure he was left alone if that was his wish; Hermione fielded requests and dealt with the public. Meanwhile, neither of them knew what to do about Harry exactly. He needed someone to talk to, someone who wasn’t them.
That had been a hard thing to come to terms with, that there was something wrong with Harry that the three of them together couldn’t fix. Ron decided it was just that he needed time and so, for the most part, left him alone. Hermione thought that he needed someone who would listen and wouldn’t try and fix him. She was not good at that second part, so she too, for the most part, left him alone.
Then one day Nymphadora Tonks showed up at 12 Grimmauld Place and demanded to be let in. No one had summoned her; the Aurors hadn’t even pressed him yet with their presupposed assumption that he would be joining their ranks. She had simply taken it upon herself to go to him as a friend.
“Wotcher Harry,” she said when he opened the door bleary eyed and wrapped in a blanket.
“Tonks. What are you doing here? Is everything okay? Where are Ron and Hermione? Are they okay?”
She didn’t answer, just pushed her way inside. He didn’t stop her.
“I love what you’ve done with the place,” her tone dripping with sarcasm.
“Sod off,” he spat without thinking.
“No, really,” she drawled, walking through the entranceway running a finger along one of the tapestries as if inspecting for dust. “I always thought this place was a bit too proper, a bit too dark and depressing. You’ve certainly taken care of the proper part.”
“Why are you here?” he asked, ignoring her continued taunt.
“Just felt like chatting you up. It’s been ages. Since you never invite me around for tea, not to mention anything stronger, I took it upon myself.”
Harry just stared at her not sure what to say. Finally he shrugged. “Would you care for some tea?”
“You have anything stronger?”
“I’m sure I do, this was, after all, a house that Sirius lived in.”
“Right-o. I bet I know exactly where he kept the good stuff, or what he deemed good.”
She walked down the hall, tripping on the coatrack. “For fuck sake! I hate this fuckin’ thing. It’s only purpose seems to be in the fuckin’ way.”
She continued to rant but it was drowned out by the portrait behind the drapes shrieking about unclean spawn of an unstable witch.
Tonks turned towards Harry. “Do you have any coats to hang here?”
Harry shrugged. “Not really.”
Tonks waved her wand and the coatrack disappeared and Tonks sighed, all the while ignoring the continued screeching. “Now, let’s find us that booze, shall we?”
They walked down to the kitchen and Tonks went behind a wall that Harry had never really noticed before. There was a sound of things falling and crashing and then she was back with an almost full bottle of bourbon and two tall glasses.
She put the bottle down on the kitchen table, looked at the glasses suspiciously, blew a thick layer of dust off of them, then put them down on the table and picked up the bottle, uncapped it and brought it to her lips. She took a long swallow before coughing into her sleeve and handing the bottle to Harry.
He watched her, mystified by her very presence and then took a drink. He gasped against the burn as it caught fire and spread down his throat.
“Hurts don’t it?” she asked with a laugh, taking the bottle and walking out of the room, motioning for him to follow. “It gets better.”
“Could hardly get worse.”
“You think?” she asked, turning to look at him. Harry hadn’t seen she had stopped until he was practically on top of her.
She looked at him as if actually waiting for an answer. He shrugged. Truth was, looking at the sparkle of her eyes; he couldn’t remember what they were talking about.
It had been a long time since he’d really looked at anyone; he was not prepared for the feelings it stirred. There was a warmth in his chest. Maybe it was the bourbon, he reasoned. He took the bottle from her and took another drink. The burn was numbed a bit, but still, there was a fire running through his veins and he couldn’t stop watching the flecks of silver in her eyes. He licked his lips.
She seemed to notice his predicament and smiled wickedly. She reached for the bottle but instead of taking it from him, tugged it and him to continue following her. He swallowed.
They didn’t talk for a long time as they sat on the bearskin rug in front of the blazing fireplace and passed the bottle back and forth. They both stared at the flames as if they expected the rest of the world to join them any moment. Harry sneaked peeks from time to time but she never seemed to move her eyes from the fire as if she forgot he was there.
“Why are you here?” he finally asked again, this time not so much terse as curious.
She took a drink and finally looked at him. “I’m lonely.”
His jaw edged to the floor. He didn’t think he’d ever met anyone quite so truthful. “You are?”
She nodded slowly. “Aren’t you?”
He didn’t know if it were her honesty urging him, or just the presence of another without the shared past and traumatic baggage or if it was just because it was Tonks and that something of her eyes and smile, but after a moment he nodded too.
Their friendship was easy. She showed up once or twice a week and they drank and sometimes talked and sometimes didn’t. She didn’t want anything from him, didn’t expect anything from him. She made him laugh. He desperately wanted to return the favor.
She told him about what it was to be an Auror but didn’t push. He told her about how sometimes he felt disconnected from everyone and everything and that made him want to run, to hide away. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to let Ron and Hermione in; it was just that he couldn’t explain it and he was sure they wouldn’t understand.
One night he found himself wrapped in her arms crying. She held him and rocked him gently. He’d experienced a lot of magic in his life, but this was beyond what he’d felt before. How she had gotten him to that place without him realizing that it was happening would always remain a mystery to him.
When he pulled away to wipe his eyes, he looked into hers, there was no pity, no fear, just understanding. She smiled at him. He wasn’t sure if it was that smile or his raw emotions that made him take the risk, but he slowly brought his lips to hers, giving her the opportunity to stop him. She didn’t.
The kiss was slow and tender, almost chaste but with a hint of its possibility of being so much more. He was terrified to her reaction when they were done, but when he pulled away, she licked her lips then leaned her forehead to his.
Harry let out a deep breath and closed his eyes, feeling her warmed skin against his, her wine-soaked breath on his lips.
Their romance was easy.
She would come over two or three nights a week and sometimes they would talk and sometimes they wouldn’t. The sex was slow and tender at first, with hints of possibility of being so much more. Harry sensed there were things she wanted that she wasn’t ready to ask for and wondered if it were because she was still in her “Take Care of Harry” phase or if because she didn’t yet trust him with her heart.
Since conversations about emotions, wants and needs were still not Harry’s forte, he waited. In the meantime, he began slowly, quietly coming out of his self-appointed asylum. He’d meet Ron and Hermione for drinks, talked to Kingsley about starting Auror training.
He and Tonks kept their relationship quiet. Not because either of them were ashamed or embarrassed, it was just theirs. They didn't need anyone else. Then, when Harry decided to finally begin his Auror training and Tonks was one of his instructors it made sense that they keep their relationship to themselves.
It was a week into training non-magical self-defense that Harry finally sorted what it was that Tonks wanted but was too afraid to ask.
“Harry, I’m not a fuckin’ flower, I’m a thug! Show me what you have,” she said, clearly exasperated.
She wasn’t the only one. Harry had been trying to work up the power and control needed to dominate an attack and come away winning, or at least not too bruised and bloodied for what felt like years.
He tried again. And when he regained consciousness moments later, she had him pinned to the mat. Looking down on him with a scowl she spat out, “Pathetic.”
He pushed her off and stood up, swiped the blood tinged sweat from his face with his forearm before crouching in position, refusing to even give a moment’s thought to his injuries. She rolled her eyes and got in position as well.
“Is that all you got?” Tonks asked.
Before she had even finished her taunt, Harry had charged her, wrapped his arms around her thighs, picked her up and slammed her to the ground, pinning her to the floor.
For a moment they just stared at each other, both equally shocked. It wasn’t until she wrapped her legs around his torso with no intention of continuing the fight, instead grabbing his arse, did he notice that he was rock hard. He groaned. She smiled wickedly and reached up biting his lip before kissing him hard.
“Session over?” he asked once she’d stopped.
“Oh yeah. I need you…now. Take me. Fuck me,” Tonks growled.
Harry swallowed hard and nodded, getting on his knees and pulling her up as he pulled out his wand. Once they were standing he spun them around and Apparated them to Tonk’s house — her bedroom.
He kissed her as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and legs around his thighs. He staggered them to her bed and laid her down before pulling off the top of his training uniform.
She pulled off hers and was shimming out of the bottoms when he asked, “What do you want?”
“Every minute of every day,” he replied.
She smiled wickedly again. “No. Worship me. With your tongue.”
He blushed. “My pleasure.”
He hovered over her, bent down, licked her lips open and slicked his tongue into her mouth, tasting her. She worked her hands down to the waist of his training uniform and pulled them off his hips and then used her feet to work them the rest of the way as he breathed deep and hot into her ear before taking the lobe with his tongue and sucking.
“Mmm, yeah. Bite me,” she mumbled.
“Yeah?” Harry asked.
“Some things can’t be taught, they can just be learned. Don’t ask. Do.”
He didn’t say anything more, just applied pressure to her lobe.
“Is that all you got?” she asked, mimicking her training tone.
He growled and bit harder.
Kissing and licking his way along her jawline and throat, being spurred on by her satisfied purring, he sucked at her collarbone.
“Oh yeah,” she whispered, rotating her pelvis against him before ordering, “Harder.”
This time he didn’t ask, he did. He sucked until he thought he could feel the heated blood under her skin rising. Then he moved down to her chest and nipples licking, sucking and biting just on the right side of painful. Her instructions now were guttural; whine when she wanted more, harder, deeper, purr when he’d done well and finally a moan when he’d done really well.
He would consider it a successful lesson learned only if he could get her to beg by the end.
With that objective in mind, he took his time exploring the skin that covered her torso and hips. Spreading her legs wider, he sucked at her thighs hard before running his teeth along the skin and biting down.
She screamed and he looked up nervous.
“Don’t stop!” she ordered.
This time it was his turn to smile wickedly. “My pleasure.”
Running his tongue slowly along the lips of her labia, he felt her quiver and heard her moan. He took this as a sign he was doing it right. He didn’t think now was the time to tell her that he’d never done this before.
Again he licked, this time harder and then he spread her lips open with his fingers and flicked lightly against the clitoris with his tongue.
“Please!” she gasped, running her fingers through his hair and pushing.
He laughed. Lesson learned, he tongued her deeper before taking the tip of her clit in his teeth.
She screamed again and he felt her come in a gasped pant.
“Was that what you wanted?” he asked moments later looking up from in between her legs.
“Exactly what I wanted,” she answered still slightly breathless and reaching for him. “You learn quickly.”
“When I have a good teacher.”
They continued their lessons both in and out of the bedroom. Tonks said he was determined to teach him to know his own power. He felt he was getting far better educated in bed and wondered how that would manifest itself out of it. Then one day in combat training, he finally pinned her down and made it impossible for her to escape his capture.
That night she showed up at his house with a present.
“Um, thanks?” he said pulling long cherry rose colored satin ropes out of a tissue lined box.
“You can think of no uses for them?” she asked.
He blushed. “A few.”
She walked passed him, slipping off her robes in the hallway, pretending to hang them on the coat rack that was no longer there. She was wearing nothing but panties that matched the color and fabric of the ropes in his hands.
A week after that, when he’d bloodied Kingsley’s nose in combat training (before Kingsley got back to his feet and sent Harry against the wall, but still, small victories) Tonks presented him with a box in which Harry found a single feather, long and pink. He smiled wickedly, needing no instructions for this one.
One of the first things he had learned, quite by accident one night, was how very ticklish she was and how very adorable it was when she lost her mind in the fight to not squirm and giggle. He had used the trick a few times since, but with the new gift? Things could get positively evil.
“Oh, you’re going to be completely wicked with this, aren’t you?”
He cocked his eyebrow and stared her down. “What do you think?”
“I think I’m enjoying witnessing you reclaim your strength and power.”
He schooled his features to play the role she valued. He so wanted to please her.
“I’m learning from the best.”
She blushed. “You’re without a doubt my very best pupil.”
Two weeks after that they sat at Christmas dinner with almost everyone they knew and tried to contain how very much they wished they were somewhere else, alone and with far less clothes on.
“Hey Tonks, how’s Harry’s training coming?” George asked as dessert was served.
“He’s doing very well, learning all the tricks. We expect he’ll soon be among the best and brightest.” She licked whipped cream off her spoon and smirked at Harry sitting across the table.
He glared at her but couldn’t stop a growl from escaping his lips. Everyone laughed, but only Tonks knew what that growl meant. Harry could see that she knew she’d be paying for that comment later and when shortly after dinner, she excused herself, he knew she could hardly wait.
He only stayed a little longer himself. Partly to punish her further for her cheek, but mostly to prepare himself to be what she most wanted.
He found her standing nude on the familiar bear skin rug of his sitting room with the fire dancing behind her in a halo of light. “What would you like of me?” she asked in a silk voice.
“Then you’re going to have to take it.” She eyed the table beside the lounge chair and Harry followed her eyes and saw all the gifted instruments of rapturous torture laid out.
She turned around and put her crossed hands behind her.
“I don’t know. Looks like you’re giving it to me.”
She regarded him over her shoulder and smirked. “Oh, is that what you want?”
He walked slowly toward her. “I told you. I want everything.”
“Tell me what to do.”
Putting his finger against her lips to silence her he said, “Down on your knees.”
She raised an eyebrow but did as he told with no comment.
He gathered the rope off the table before standing above and looking down upon her. So beautiful and full of life and he adored her beyond anything he thought would be possible. From this position she looked like a gift presented to him. He walked around taking her in, her glorious breasts gleaming in the light of the fire, the silhouette of the curves shadows of tantalizing darkness.
When he was behind her again he got down on his knees and ran the fingers of his hand up her spine and through the pink hair of the nape of her neck, pulling her head up. She raised her chin and when he let go of her hair, she kept it and her eyes up. Then he ran his hands down her arms, feeling the hair stand up under his touch. Circling his fingers around her wrists, he pulled them together. When he let go, she kept those were he’d put them too. He wrapped the satin around her wrists tightly.
After she was restrained he went back to the table and picked up the feather.
“Oh, you’re evil,” she whispered as he approached again.
He smiled. “I know.”
“I’ll be nice. I promise.”
She looked in his eyes for the first time since getting down on her knees. “I trust you.” He swallowed before she continued with a question. “You remember the safe word though, right?”
She smiled fondly and he ran the feather along her outer thigh, up her hip and waist and to her breasts. The stroke wasn’t light and soft so she didn’t squirm and it didn’t tickle. When he got to the curve of her breast though, he slowed and gentled his strokes. She moaned and he moved to the other one, watching the flesh prickle and her nipples harden. He bent over and licked it, flicking the bud of it with his tongue before sucking it into his mouth. She moaned again, this time much more needy.
While he moved his mouth to her other breast, he worked the feather down the other side of her, slowly and delicately bringing it to the inside of her thigh.
“More,” she begged as the feather fluttered around her wetness.
He had this idea of drawing it out, making it truly torturous, but he didn’t have it in him to deny her anything. That would be a lesson for another day, he reasoned, as he dropped the feather and ran his fingers through the hair of her pubis.
Lightly at first and then with more pressure he stroked in slow circles the labia before dipping a finger in and rubbing back and forth. She adjusted her knees further apart, granting him more access as he slid another finger.
“More,” she whispered again. “Fuck me.”
He bit onto her nipple and pulled slightly before releasing and looking at her harshly. “Who’s in charge here?”
She bowed her head. “You are.”
“And who makes the demands?”
He pulled his hand away from her and she whined her plea of clemency.
He stood up as if disappointed, really though, he had to hide his painfully erect cock.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“I know you are, but just how sorry?”
“I need to be punished.”
“Yes, you do. More feathers perhaps?”
She shook her head forcefully. “Perhaps you should… spank me?”
Harry was glad he had moved behind her so she couldn’t see his blush. “Perhaps that will teach you your lesson.”
“I think it will,” she agreed demurely.
He got back on his knees, this time behind and to the left of her. He pushed her shoulder forward slightly, so that she was at a better angle for him. Rubbing his hand along the slicked fabric of her panties, damp from her arousal, he pulled them down around her thighs.
He wanted to ask her to tell him when he was doing it wrong, but it went against the role he was playing, and he really wanted to play this role right. Instead he decided to remember all the spankings he’d gotten in his life from his aunt and uncle and do the exact opposite. He wasn’t sure that was a good, or even slightly sexy plan, but he also wasn’t sure this was something that he was going to find all that enjoyable or sexy anyway.
He raised his hand over his head and swallowed his feeling of ridiculousness. He had a dilemma, there was no other word for it, he didn’t want to hurt her, but he also didn’t want to be taunted for his inadequate use of force.
Then he remembered this was Nymphadora Tonks, one of the toughest people he knew and someone he hoped to be like someday. Swiftly and with momentum he brought his hand down with a loud thwap.
Harry was not prepared for the sensation that accompanied the sting on his hand. Not the euphoria of the rushed breath he expelled, not the tingle of his fingers that spread up the arm, not the only slight guilt-tinged amazement at the redded skin of Tonks’ arse and certainly not the immediate response of his cock to the bliss-infused moan that issued from deep down Tonk’s throat. His blood pounded and swirled with an exhilarated surge of power.
“Please…” she whimpered.
She didn’t have to ask twice.
First it was another swift hard slap, then a lighter, gentler one. Each was accepted enthusiastically and after each was the needful plea for more.
He continued until he couldn’t take any more of the throbbing of his cock demanding penetration. With a soft love tap of a slap, a gentle loving kiss and a whispered soothing spell, he began rubbing and massaging the taut muscle of her back. She moaned again as he took the skin on the back of her neck and sucked. All the while he bent her forward and spread her legs, enough for him to get access but not enough that she couldn’t keep herself up with her hands still tied behind her back.
He kissed along her shoulder blades as he wrapped his arms around her, his back flush against hers. One hand grasped her shoulder, wrapping around the side of her neck, the other snaked down between her legs. He moaned as his fingers found her wet and warm. She moaned too as he spread her lips and slid his cock in slow and deep.
He moved his arms from around her to grasp her hips. With his head thrown back, his eyes closed, he slowly felt every centimeter of the warmth wrapped tightly around his cock. Her back sunk under his hand as she rested her forehead on the furred rug and her legs spread a bit more and he felt her open up. He took this as her way of granting permission and also asking for more.
He pulled almost completely out, dug his fingers tightly around the curve of her hips and pulled her to him as he pumped hard and deep. She whined and he did it again and again and again. He lost track of time, lost track of where he was and of everything that wasn’t this moment, wasn’t him and her and this sensation running through his body from the hair follicles in his head to the tips of his toes, meeting in euphoria in the middle.
He barely heard her moans and his grunts with all the blood pulsing in his ears. It wasn’t until he saw the sparks of his synapsis exploded behind his eyelids and he came with one last thrust buried deep inside her that he became aware of his own labored breath and her choked gasps of orgasm.
He opened his eyes and looked down at her bent before him where he’d placed her, hands bound where he’d tied them and another surge of power pulsed through him. Letting go of her hips were his fingers had left marks with their grasp, he undid the knot of the rope and she pulled herself to again be flush against him before he wrapped his arms around her and tilted them so they could fall in a tumbled mess of limbs onto the soft rug, Tonks spooned against him.
Kissing the nape of her neck to her shoulder, he sighed peacefully. When he got up to grab the blanket he saw all the new marks on Tonk’s body from him. The hickeys on her neck and shoulder, the bite marks along her breast, the finger prints on her hips, and finally, hand shaped welts on her arse.
He went to reach for his wand to cast some healing spells.
She stilled him holding his wrist. “No. I want to keep them.”
“Mmm hmm. I want to see you marked on my skin, I want to feel the power of you every time I sit down, remember what your hand feels like on my arse.”
His heart swelled and he beamed down at her. “Did I please you?”
She pulled him down to her again and turned so they were facing each other.
“In more ways than you’ll ever know,” she said, kissing him sweetly and wrapping herself tightly around him.
“And am I now among the best and the brightest?”
She laughed. “Perhaps.”