[FIC] "Beauty and The Beast"; Harry Potter for selena_wolf
Title: Beauty and the Beast
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody/Nymphadora Tonks
Rating: NC17 for sexual situations
for
selena__wolfand the request found here
Warnings: May-December adult pairing. Some scenes may be unsuitable for those underage, reader discretion advised. May contain spoilers to "...Order of the Phoenix."
Nymphadora Tonks could not shake the feeling like was being watched. Ever since the man known as "Mad-Eye" came back to the Ministry, she felt someone’s eyes following her wherever she went.
***
Alastor Moody was mystified by the young Metamorphmagus. The recently-out-of-retirement Auror made it his business to know who we was working with. Miss Tonks troubled him, and fascinated him at the same time. She was a Black cousin-an ancient family notorious for dark magic. Her Aunt Bellatrix and Uncle Lucius were known Death-Eaters. Her second-cousin Sirius was a convicted murderer and Azkaban escapee.
So what was she doing in the profession of hunting dark wizards?
***
"What’s the deal with this Moody bloke?" Tonks sat with Shacklebolt at the Ministry cafeteria. The tomato in her burger kept slipping out as she attempted to cut it in two.
"The resurgence of Death-Eater activity, and the rumoured return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," Shacklebolt chewed on his steak, "seems to have relit the fire under the old man’s arse."
Tonks looked over at Moody, sitting alone at a table, tearing at his food with his fork, then sniffing at every morsel as if searching for poison. He only drank out of a flask. He seemed to be staring out into space.
"Try not to stare, Tonks," Shacklebolt warned, "he can literally see out of the side of his head with that magical false eye."
Indeed, that false eye was fixed on Tonks, but Moody could not let on that he was watching her, observing her.
"He looks lonely," Tonks lifted her tray, "I’m going to go over there and say hallo."
"Approach with caution," Shacklebolt said. The Anglo-African Auror held his food, and his breath, as the bubble-gum-haired girl walked over to Moody. He expected Mad-Eye to whip out his wand and blow Tonks to ashes.
Instead, Mad-Eye barely acknowledged Tonk’s presence as she stood at his table.
"Um, Mr. Moody?" Nymphadora said quietly and politely. She did not want to spook the spooky-looking man. "My name is...."
"Nymphadora Tonks, Metamorphmagus, Auror Second-Class," Moody interrupted. "Hired to the Ministry about 10 months ago. Daughter of Andromeda Black and Ted Tonks-one witch, one muggle. Relation of the Black Clan. Sorted into Gryffindor at Hogwarts. Eight OWL’s, five of them O’s, two E’s and an A.. Seven NEWT’s-four O’s and four E’s. Youngest Auror in Ministry History-high marks in Camouflage but barely passing in Stealth. Right-handed, blood type AB-. Your Gringotts’ bank code is the name of your second pet owl which died when it attempted to fly through a closed window. You have faithful sent birthday cards to the Weird Sisters for seven years straight, yet nearly forgot your own father’s, but then again, chasing a wayward Dementor is rather time-consuming. " Moody rattled all this information off without even looking up at her.
Tonks’ jaw hung wide open. She did not realize that her spiky hair had just turned white. She felt at both amazed and a little violated. "How in the bloody hell...?"
Moody’s real eye looked up at her, "I’ve done my research, luv. I know all the mundane stuff about you, but the question I still have left is: What are you doing here?"
Tonks shut her jaw and swallowed nervously, "Um...ah...well, you looked like you use a little company, seeing as you’re sitting all by yourself and..."
"That’s not what I meant," Moody turned his face to her, standing up. The false eye was odd, but his real eye was far more menacing. "I mean...what is a Black doing in the Ministry, as an Auror? Seems to me as if your kin would be working for the other side, if you know what I mean?"
Tonks was livid. She slammed her tray down on the table and stormed out of the cafeteria. Mad-Eye looked utterly unconcerned as he picked away the chips that had flown off Tonks’ tray and onto his own. Sniffing one solitary chip, Moody wondered why young people ate such greasy stuff.
"Well," Shacklebolt sighed, "That went well."
***
Alastor’s magicked false eye probed the locker rooms. At any moment, there could be traps set up by spies, or cursed relics innocently brought in by employees, clueless to their sinister purpose. The prosthetic eye spun like a top in its metal orbit, as Mad-Eye searched the room. Suddenly, the eye stopped and focused on someone, three rows of lockers away from Mad-Eye.
It was the metamorph, Tonks. She was changing out of her office robes. Mad-Eye became transfixed on the young woman, as she lifted her robes over her head. She had her back to him. All Alastor could see of her was the gentle curve of her spine and her modest, yet firm bottom underneath black panties.
Alastor studied her back. She was finely built-skinny, wirey, but not boney. Her shoulders were strong and sharp and there was some definition in those lithe arms. There were some minor scratches and small, healing bruises on her moon-pale skin. Noting her lack of agility, they could have come from both battle or simply walking into a room. Other than those minor injuries, she was still whole, still unscarred. Her youthful body had not yet been through the whole spectrum of pain that Alastor himself had gone through.
What Alastor first feared to be a Death-Eater symbol embellished on those panties was nothing more than a skull-and-crossbones, wearing a tiny pink bow and giving a girlish wink. The little skull squeaked to Alastor, "Arr...see anything ye be likin’, Moody?"
Nymphadora’s head spun around quickly, as heavy footsteps thundered out of the locker room.
***
"What is your problem?!" Tonks confronted Mad-Eye in the labyrinthine hallways, her spiky hair hued reddish-orange. She appeared as if on fire, as her eyes burned with rage. "You’re spying on me, searching through my records? And don’t even PRETEND as if that wasn’t you in the locker room!"
Moody took a swig out of his flask-suddenly his mouth was dry, and he had some explaining to do.
"Is it because of my family?" Tonks went from anger to the brink of tears. "Because I’ve been through the whole battery of screenings. I’ve been through dozens of hours of interviews, had every nook and cranny of my personal life probed and picked at! Hell, if they had asked me to pull my knickers down and bend over..."
"I think we need to talk somewhere a bit more private, luv," Moody stopped her when he saw they had an audience of a dozen Ministry workers.
"Don’t call me ‘luv’, mister!" Tonks was enraged. "You don’t know me, and I need you to stay from me!"
Moody grabbed her by the arm, as Tonks protested, "Lemme go!"
"Calm down, I ain’t going to hurt you," Moody was much stronger than Tonks. She could whip out her want out and blast the man into the next province, but she knew better than to attack another Auror, particularly one with the dangerous reputation of Mad-Eye Moody. The older Auror yanked her reluctantly down the corridor.
"What are you bastards lookin’ at?" Moody barked, and the on-lookers scurried back to their offices.
***
The garden of Kensington Palace was closed to the public, under the pretense of a upcoming royal function. In reality, the Muggle Queen had made certain concessions with the Ministry of Magic to use the gardens for special purposes. Some days, it was simply to allow Ministry workers to enjoy the grounds and the fresh air on their lunch breaks. There were no Muggle tourists on the grounds, or in the palace. No one would question the presence of what appeared to be a vagrant and a female punk in the royal gardens.
Alastor’s brown bowler was pulled sideways over his false eyes, as he sat on a stone bench next to Tonks. His clothes were worn and weathered, and he kept drinking out of his hip flask. He stared out into the lush, floral gardens, taping his existing foot on the ground nervously.
Tonks sat quietly, still uncomfortable in the older Auror’s presence. She was wearing a tight Union-Jack tee, a pink-and-black plaid kilt decorated with safety pins, thigh-high black stockings and tomato-red Doc Martins.
They made an unusual pair. They sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity.
"I guess I got some explaining to do," Moody broke the tense silence.
"Damn right," Tonks muttered.
"I’ve had some...unfortunate run-ins with several members of the Black Clan," Moody said. "It was known that the matriarch of the family funded Voldemort’s army." Moody easily dropped the Dark Lord’s name, while the sound of it made Tonks shiver. "Several of the Blacks, and many of its in-laws, became Death-Eaters themselves."
"Mr. Moody," Tonks said, with a bored tone of voice, "My mother may have been a Black, but she was completely disowned when she married Dad. Mum’s family would rather commit incest than mix with ‘mudbloods,’ if it meant keeping the line ‘pure’." Tonks curled her fingers into air-quotes. "Our branch has been chopped off the family tree. We’ve gotten death threats, sir, by my own aunts and uncles! My own grandparents put a bounty on our heads at one point! It’s rather bloody obvious to say, sir, that we’ve yet to receive an invitation to Christmas dinner."
Moody bowed his head, "I’m sorry."
Tonks pretended to spit into the air, "Ah, the hell with ‘em all! I think the only decent relative I have, other than Mum and Dad, is Sirius-poor bloke. I just couldn’t believe he’d do what the courts said he did! He’s just the nicest, sweetest bloke you’d ever meet."
Moody began to see the woman Tonks was-a little tough, at times crude, but deeply caring for her nearest and dearest. Moody tapped on his flask idly, "So, you never did answer my question."
"Huh?" Tonks asked.
"What made you become an Auror?" Moody asked again.
Tonks shrugged, "With all the troubles between my parents and Mum’s crazy relatives, I had to learn to fight the Dark Arts. Mum was Ravenclaw--it must have been a huge shock to the family, but she’s really bright. She was the top student in Defense of Dark Arts. She taught me some stuff. I wasn’t about to be knocked around by a cousin with a grudge against my folks. Besides, becoming an Auror just sounded more exciting than what Dad does for a living."
"And what does he do, luv?" Moody asked.
"He’s a retired sergeant-major. He’s a Beefeater who gives tours at the Tower of London."
Moody laughs loudly.
"Don’t laugh!" Tonks said, "It’s a rare honour among Muggles."
"Ah, lass," Moody chuckled, "If you knew how many magic spells, relics and runes lie within the Tower walls..."
"Really?" Tonks’ eyes lit up.
"Ya heard about the one about the crows?" Moody explained. "If they ever left the Tower, the Muggle Monarchy of England would fall. A wizard in Muggle King Stephen’s time-Baxter Beatlebucket-- put that curse on."
"Why the crows?" Tonks asked.
Moody shrugged, "‘Cause Baxter was the head chef at White Tower. And because they were Baxter’s pets.-they kept the mice out of Baxter’s food."
"Weird," Tonks shook her head.
The conversation dried up again, and Tonks and Moody sat quietly on the bench, staring at the beautiful royal gardens. Tonks yawned, stretching her legs outward, pointing her toes outward. Moody tried not to appear to stare. They were fine legs, like the rest of her. The memory of her in the locker room came back-her bare back, her black panties, that damn little skull with the bow...
Alastor Moody snapped out of his fantasy instantly. An Auror cannot be distracted by such thoughts, he chided himself. Constant vigilance! Always on guard! Besides, he was old enough to be her father.
Coughing, Moody handed his flask to Tonks, "Sip?"
"Er, no thanks," Tonks declined politely. Not only did she not drink from another person’s bottle, but she was not sure if its contents were healthy.
"Cactus juice, ingredients imported from the States," Moody insisted. "My own concoction. Prevents nearly all ailments. You won’t have a sick day in months."
Tonks reluctantly took the flask, wiped the lip off with a handkerchief on her black-leather utility belt, sniffed it, and took a small sip. Moody watched her tangerine-painted lips pucker around the flask opening. He found it hard to keep purely professional thoughts ever since his survey of the Auror locker-room.
"Not bad," Tonks gulped. "Got a kick to it-not alcoholic, but something like...yoikes!"
"Feelin’ better," Moody asked.
"Yeah," Tonks smiled. She handed the flask back to him. In that moment, their hands touched. His hands were rough and hers was smooth. His fingers were thick and meaty, and hers long and spindly.
Moody blushed, then put the flask back into his pocket, "So, um, I’m sorry if I offended you earlier."
"Forgiven," Tonks shook his hand. "We’re working together now, so let’s be mates, OK?"
"Fine with me," Moody nodded.
"And tell yer fake eye to keep off me legs," Tonks stood up, with a mischievous grin on her face.
Moody’s face turned beet red.
***
Months passed by, and Moody became satisfied in the fact that Tonks was not one of Voldemort’s spies. They spend many lunch breaks together, as he kept her captivated with stories of murderous dark wizards, deadly traps and espionage. He openly told her about his run-ins with Death Eaters, and even Voldemort himself. He described every horrible injury he had ever sustained, and she was fascinated.
He saw her as a young apprentice, someone to continue the work he had started. She was bright, and tough. Moody tried hard to ignore the fact that she was rather pretty, as well. Such thoughts, he said to himself, could do more damage to a working relationship than good. He reminded himself, on a daily basis, that he was too old for some schoolboy crush on the cute girl. As the day went by, it became clear to Mad-Eye that this was no innocent crush.
Moody could not recall the last time he had been with a woman. His life did not leave much room for romance, and most ladies found his disfigured face both frightening and repulsive. He was missing an eye, a chunk of his nose, and one of his legs. He knew he was not attractive, and he accepted that fact.
***
His magic eye was always awake, but the rest of Alastor fell into a deep sleep.
She appeared before him, topless, with just her panties on. Long, black hair fell around her face, down to her chin. The strands of jet-black locks gave her heart-shaped face a more mature, dangerous, sensual look. Her arms were folded in front of her bare chest. She straddled him on the bed.
"Alastor," Tonks whispered.
Alastor knew this had to be a dream, yet here she was--this young beauty, this little nymph, on his bed.
She undressed him. He pulled her against him. She wrapped her slender arms around his thick neck as they kissed. He squeezed her slender, youthful, perfect body against his large, damaged, battle-scarred frame. His skin was like tanned dragon-hide leather while hers was like Oriental silk. Her candy-like flower-petal lips were being consumed by his.
Alastor broke his kiss, and turned Tonks around. She laid on her elbows and knees, with that little skull-and-crossbones staring back at him, daring him to make his next move. Tonks looked over her shoulder. Her eyes smouldered, not with the rage in the Ministry hallway, but with a fiery lust. She arched her backside against him.
Alastor hooked his fingers into the waistband of those panties and yanked them off, as the skull made a startled squeak. With one hand on her waist, and another on her hip, he sank himself into her. She moaned with each thrust of his pelvis. He pushed into her, harder, faster. She cried out his name.
Alastor woke up. He was dripping with sweat, as he feverish fumbled for his false eye. There was no Tonks in his bed. There was never a Tonks in my bed, he had to remind himself.
***
A year passed. One day, Moody walked into the Auror office, and saw that someone was conspicuously absent.
"Tonks is on leave," Shacklebolt told the veteran Auror, "Death in the family. Her cousin."
Moody nods knowingly. Sirius Black, Tonks’ second cousin, the only relative outside of her parents that she was close to, was killed by her own aunt.
"I’ll be back," Moody mutters, and walks to the floo station.
With a burst of green smoke, Alastor was in Tonks’ apartment. Dozens of Weird Sisters posters were plastered on the wall and ceiling, and all of her robes were haphazardly strewn across the furniture. His magical eye detected Tonks on the couch, with a funerally-slow Weird Sister song on repeat on the stereo.
"Wotcha, Moody," Tonks greeted him sadly, staring up at the ceiling. Strands of her long, black hair fell like a mourning veil around her face. Moody shuffled around the couch, as Tonks folded her legs in to let him sit down.
"I’m...sorry for your loss," Moody said, sympathetically. "He was a big help to us-the Order. Despite what the courts say, he was a good bloke."
"Thanks, Moody," Tonks sat up and hugged him, her small breasts pressed against his side. Alastor was in a dilemma-he tried to keep a certain, respectful distance between them. One side of his brain told him to gently push her off and go back into the floo. The other side of his brain had other ideas. Alastor came up with a compromise.
The older Auror wrapped his big arms around the lithe, little lady, as Tonks rested her cheek on his broad shoulder. She wept softly, her tears rolling down Moody's leather duster.
"I hate that bitch!" Tonks grumbled. "I'll get her if it's the last thing I do!"
"We'll get 'em all, luv," Moody rubbed her shoulder, "I promise. We'll get 'em."
He was consoling a co-worker, Moody reasoned with himself, there was nothing wrong in that. The scent of her hair and the warmth of her cheek, however, made the older Auror’s heart pound so hard in his chest, he thought it might explode.
"Tonks," Moody said quietly, "Ya know, if there is anything I can do for you, all you have to is..."
Tonks interrupted his sentence with a peck on the lips. Alastor’s eye almost popped out of its artificial socket-his real one as well.
"You’ve been real good to me, Alastor," Tonks whispered. "I know it doesn’t seem proper, but..." Tonks hesitated for a moment.
"But what, luv?" Alastor urged her to continue.
"I guess...if I learned anything from Sirius’ death, it’s that our time on Earth is finite. We’ve gotta make the most of our time. Don’cha agree, Alastor?"
"Um...," Moody was suddenly at a loss for words, "Yes. Yes, luv, of course."
Tonks’ face moved forward again for another kiss, but this time, Moody pulled away.
"NO! I can’t," Moody’s face was bright red. He felt like he was torn in two, "I’m too old, too dangerous..."
"I don’t care," Tonks said resolutely. "I love you, Alastor. I’ve been keeping that a secret for months now, but you must know. I love you. Do you love me?"
Alastor was silent. There was the proper answer, and then there was the truth.
"Answer me! Do you love me?" Tonks repeated, sounding more desperate for an answer.
Alastor looked into her eyes. How could a beauty love a beast, he questioned himself. The answer was: Because they can.
He grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her hard.
"Is that a sufficient answer for you, luv?" Moody grinned.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody/Nymphadora Tonks
Rating: NC17 for sexual situations
for
selena__wolfand the request found here
Warnings: May-December adult pairing. Some scenes may be unsuitable for those underage, reader discretion advised. May contain spoilers to "...Order of the Phoenix."
Nymphadora Tonks could not shake the feeling like was being watched. Ever since the man known as "Mad-Eye" came back to the Ministry, she felt someone’s eyes following her wherever she went.
***
Alastor Moody was mystified by the young Metamorphmagus. The recently-out-of-retirement Auror made it his business to know who we was working with. Miss Tonks troubled him, and fascinated him at the same time. She was a Black cousin-an ancient family notorious for dark magic. Her Aunt Bellatrix and Uncle Lucius were known Death-Eaters. Her second-cousin Sirius was a convicted murderer and Azkaban escapee.
So what was she doing in the profession of hunting dark wizards?
***
"What’s the deal with this Moody bloke?" Tonks sat with Shacklebolt at the Ministry cafeteria. The tomato in her burger kept slipping out as she attempted to cut it in two.
"The resurgence of Death-Eater activity, and the rumoured return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," Shacklebolt chewed on his steak, "seems to have relit the fire under the old man’s arse."
Tonks looked over at Moody, sitting alone at a table, tearing at his food with his fork, then sniffing at every morsel as if searching for poison. He only drank out of a flask. He seemed to be staring out into space.
"Try not to stare, Tonks," Shacklebolt warned, "he can literally see out of the side of his head with that magical false eye."
Indeed, that false eye was fixed on Tonks, but Moody could not let on that he was watching her, observing her.
"He looks lonely," Tonks lifted her tray, "I’m going to go over there and say hallo."
"Approach with caution," Shacklebolt said. The Anglo-African Auror held his food, and his breath, as the bubble-gum-haired girl walked over to Moody. He expected Mad-Eye to whip out his wand and blow Tonks to ashes.
Instead, Mad-Eye barely acknowledged Tonk’s presence as she stood at his table.
"Um, Mr. Moody?" Nymphadora said quietly and politely. She did not want to spook the spooky-looking man. "My name is...."
"Nymphadora Tonks, Metamorphmagus, Auror Second-Class," Moody interrupted. "Hired to the Ministry about 10 months ago. Daughter of Andromeda Black and Ted Tonks-one witch, one muggle. Relation of the Black Clan. Sorted into Gryffindor at Hogwarts. Eight OWL’s, five of them O’s, two E’s and an A.. Seven NEWT’s-four O’s and four E’s. Youngest Auror in Ministry History-high marks in Camouflage but barely passing in Stealth. Right-handed, blood type AB-. Your Gringotts’ bank code is the name of your second pet owl which died when it attempted to fly through a closed window. You have faithful sent birthday cards to the Weird Sisters for seven years straight, yet nearly forgot your own father’s, but then again, chasing a wayward Dementor is rather time-consuming. " Moody rattled all this information off without even looking up at her.
Tonks’ jaw hung wide open. She did not realize that her spiky hair had just turned white. She felt at both amazed and a little violated. "How in the bloody hell...?"
Moody’s real eye looked up at her, "I’ve done my research, luv. I know all the mundane stuff about you, but the question I still have left is: What are you doing here?"
Tonks shut her jaw and swallowed nervously, "Um...ah...well, you looked like you use a little company, seeing as you’re sitting all by yourself and..."
"That’s not what I meant," Moody turned his face to her, standing up. The false eye was odd, but his real eye was far more menacing. "I mean...what is a Black doing in the Ministry, as an Auror? Seems to me as if your kin would be working for the other side, if you know what I mean?"
Tonks was livid. She slammed her tray down on the table and stormed out of the cafeteria. Mad-Eye looked utterly unconcerned as he picked away the chips that had flown off Tonks’ tray and onto his own. Sniffing one solitary chip, Moody wondered why young people ate such greasy stuff.
"Well," Shacklebolt sighed, "That went well."
***
Alastor’s magicked false eye probed the locker rooms. At any moment, there could be traps set up by spies, or cursed relics innocently brought in by employees, clueless to their sinister purpose. The prosthetic eye spun like a top in its metal orbit, as Mad-Eye searched the room. Suddenly, the eye stopped and focused on someone, three rows of lockers away from Mad-Eye.
It was the metamorph, Tonks. She was changing out of her office robes. Mad-Eye became transfixed on the young woman, as she lifted her robes over her head. She had her back to him. All Alastor could see of her was the gentle curve of her spine and her modest, yet firm bottom underneath black panties.
Alastor studied her back. She was finely built-skinny, wirey, but not boney. Her shoulders were strong and sharp and there was some definition in those lithe arms. There were some minor scratches and small, healing bruises on her moon-pale skin. Noting her lack of agility, they could have come from both battle or simply walking into a room. Other than those minor injuries, she was still whole, still unscarred. Her youthful body had not yet been through the whole spectrum of pain that Alastor himself had gone through.
What Alastor first feared to be a Death-Eater symbol embellished on those panties was nothing more than a skull-and-crossbones, wearing a tiny pink bow and giving a girlish wink. The little skull squeaked to Alastor, "Arr...see anything ye be likin’, Moody?"
Nymphadora’s head spun around quickly, as heavy footsteps thundered out of the locker room.
***
"What is your problem?!" Tonks confronted Mad-Eye in the labyrinthine hallways, her spiky hair hued reddish-orange. She appeared as if on fire, as her eyes burned with rage. "You’re spying on me, searching through my records? And don’t even PRETEND as if that wasn’t you in the locker room!"
Moody took a swig out of his flask-suddenly his mouth was dry, and he had some explaining to do.
"Is it because of my family?" Tonks went from anger to the brink of tears. "Because I’ve been through the whole battery of screenings. I’ve been through dozens of hours of interviews, had every nook and cranny of my personal life probed and picked at! Hell, if they had asked me to pull my knickers down and bend over..."
"I think we need to talk somewhere a bit more private, luv," Moody stopped her when he saw they had an audience of a dozen Ministry workers.
"Don’t call me ‘luv’, mister!" Tonks was enraged. "You don’t know me, and I need you to stay from me!"
Moody grabbed her by the arm, as Tonks protested, "Lemme go!"
"Calm down, I ain’t going to hurt you," Moody was much stronger than Tonks. She could whip out her want out and blast the man into the next province, but she knew better than to attack another Auror, particularly one with the dangerous reputation of Mad-Eye Moody. The older Auror yanked her reluctantly down the corridor.
"What are you bastards lookin’ at?" Moody barked, and the on-lookers scurried back to their offices.
***
The garden of Kensington Palace was closed to the public, under the pretense of a upcoming royal function. In reality, the Muggle Queen had made certain concessions with the Ministry of Magic to use the gardens for special purposes. Some days, it was simply to allow Ministry workers to enjoy the grounds and the fresh air on their lunch breaks. There were no Muggle tourists on the grounds, or in the palace. No one would question the presence of what appeared to be a vagrant and a female punk in the royal gardens.
Alastor’s brown bowler was pulled sideways over his false eyes, as he sat on a stone bench next to Tonks. His clothes were worn and weathered, and he kept drinking out of his hip flask. He stared out into the lush, floral gardens, taping his existing foot on the ground nervously.
Tonks sat quietly, still uncomfortable in the older Auror’s presence. She was wearing a tight Union-Jack tee, a pink-and-black plaid kilt decorated with safety pins, thigh-high black stockings and tomato-red Doc Martins.
They made an unusual pair. They sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity.
"I guess I got some explaining to do," Moody broke the tense silence.
"Damn right," Tonks muttered.
"I’ve had some...unfortunate run-ins with several members of the Black Clan," Moody said. "It was known that the matriarch of the family funded Voldemort’s army." Moody easily dropped the Dark Lord’s name, while the sound of it made Tonks shiver. "Several of the Blacks, and many of its in-laws, became Death-Eaters themselves."
"Mr. Moody," Tonks said, with a bored tone of voice, "My mother may have been a Black, but she was completely disowned when she married Dad. Mum’s family would rather commit incest than mix with ‘mudbloods,’ if it meant keeping the line ‘pure’." Tonks curled her fingers into air-quotes. "Our branch has been chopped off the family tree. We’ve gotten death threats, sir, by my own aunts and uncles! My own grandparents put a bounty on our heads at one point! It’s rather bloody obvious to say, sir, that we’ve yet to receive an invitation to Christmas dinner."
Moody bowed his head, "I’m sorry."
Tonks pretended to spit into the air, "Ah, the hell with ‘em all! I think the only decent relative I have, other than Mum and Dad, is Sirius-poor bloke. I just couldn’t believe he’d do what the courts said he did! He’s just the nicest, sweetest bloke you’d ever meet."
Moody began to see the woman Tonks was-a little tough, at times crude, but deeply caring for her nearest and dearest. Moody tapped on his flask idly, "So, you never did answer my question."
"Huh?" Tonks asked.
"What made you become an Auror?" Moody asked again.
Tonks shrugged, "With all the troubles between my parents and Mum’s crazy relatives, I had to learn to fight the Dark Arts. Mum was Ravenclaw--it must have been a huge shock to the family, but she’s really bright. She was the top student in Defense of Dark Arts. She taught me some stuff. I wasn’t about to be knocked around by a cousin with a grudge against my folks. Besides, becoming an Auror just sounded more exciting than what Dad does for a living."
"And what does he do, luv?" Moody asked.
"He’s a retired sergeant-major. He’s a Beefeater who gives tours at the Tower of London."
Moody laughs loudly.
"Don’t laugh!" Tonks said, "It’s a rare honour among Muggles."
"Ah, lass," Moody chuckled, "If you knew how many magic spells, relics and runes lie within the Tower walls..."
"Really?" Tonks’ eyes lit up.
"Ya heard about the one about the crows?" Moody explained. "If they ever left the Tower, the Muggle Monarchy of England would fall. A wizard in Muggle King Stephen’s time-Baxter Beatlebucket-- put that curse on."
"Why the crows?" Tonks asked.
Moody shrugged, "‘Cause Baxter was the head chef at White Tower. And because they were Baxter’s pets.-they kept the mice out of Baxter’s food."
"Weird," Tonks shook her head.
The conversation dried up again, and Tonks and Moody sat quietly on the bench, staring at the beautiful royal gardens. Tonks yawned, stretching her legs outward, pointing her toes outward. Moody tried not to appear to stare. They were fine legs, like the rest of her. The memory of her in the locker room came back-her bare back, her black panties, that damn little skull with the bow...
Alastor Moody snapped out of his fantasy instantly. An Auror cannot be distracted by such thoughts, he chided himself. Constant vigilance! Always on guard! Besides, he was old enough to be her father.
Coughing, Moody handed his flask to Tonks, "Sip?"
"Er, no thanks," Tonks declined politely. Not only did she not drink from another person’s bottle, but she was not sure if its contents were healthy.
"Cactus juice, ingredients imported from the States," Moody insisted. "My own concoction. Prevents nearly all ailments. You won’t have a sick day in months."
Tonks reluctantly took the flask, wiped the lip off with a handkerchief on her black-leather utility belt, sniffed it, and took a small sip. Moody watched her tangerine-painted lips pucker around the flask opening. He found it hard to keep purely professional thoughts ever since his survey of the Auror locker-room.
"Not bad," Tonks gulped. "Got a kick to it-not alcoholic, but something like...yoikes!"
"Feelin’ better," Moody asked.
"Yeah," Tonks smiled. She handed the flask back to him. In that moment, their hands touched. His hands were rough and hers was smooth. His fingers were thick and meaty, and hers long and spindly.
Moody blushed, then put the flask back into his pocket, "So, um, I’m sorry if I offended you earlier."
"Forgiven," Tonks shook his hand. "We’re working together now, so let’s be mates, OK?"
"Fine with me," Moody nodded.
"And tell yer fake eye to keep off me legs," Tonks stood up, with a mischievous grin on her face.
Moody’s face turned beet red.
***
Months passed by, and Moody became satisfied in the fact that Tonks was not one of Voldemort’s spies. They spend many lunch breaks together, as he kept her captivated with stories of murderous dark wizards, deadly traps and espionage. He openly told her about his run-ins with Death Eaters, and even Voldemort himself. He described every horrible injury he had ever sustained, and she was fascinated.
He saw her as a young apprentice, someone to continue the work he had started. She was bright, and tough. Moody tried hard to ignore the fact that she was rather pretty, as well. Such thoughts, he said to himself, could do more damage to a working relationship than good. He reminded himself, on a daily basis, that he was too old for some schoolboy crush on the cute girl. As the day went by, it became clear to Mad-Eye that this was no innocent crush.
Moody could not recall the last time he had been with a woman. His life did not leave much room for romance, and most ladies found his disfigured face both frightening and repulsive. He was missing an eye, a chunk of his nose, and one of his legs. He knew he was not attractive, and he accepted that fact.
***
His magic eye was always awake, but the rest of Alastor fell into a deep sleep.
She appeared before him, topless, with just her panties on. Long, black hair fell around her face, down to her chin. The strands of jet-black locks gave her heart-shaped face a more mature, dangerous, sensual look. Her arms were folded in front of her bare chest. She straddled him on the bed.
"Alastor," Tonks whispered.
Alastor knew this had to be a dream, yet here she was--this young beauty, this little nymph, on his bed.
She undressed him. He pulled her against him. She wrapped her slender arms around his thick neck as they kissed. He squeezed her slender, youthful, perfect body against his large, damaged, battle-scarred frame. His skin was like tanned dragon-hide leather while hers was like Oriental silk. Her candy-like flower-petal lips were being consumed by his.
Alastor broke his kiss, and turned Tonks around. She laid on her elbows and knees, with that little skull-and-crossbones staring back at him, daring him to make his next move. Tonks looked over her shoulder. Her eyes smouldered, not with the rage in the Ministry hallway, but with a fiery lust. She arched her backside against him.
Alastor hooked his fingers into the waistband of those panties and yanked them off, as the skull made a startled squeak. With one hand on her waist, and another on her hip, he sank himself into her. She moaned with each thrust of his pelvis. He pushed into her, harder, faster. She cried out his name.
Alastor woke up. He was dripping with sweat, as he feverish fumbled for his false eye. There was no Tonks in his bed. There was never a Tonks in my bed, he had to remind himself.
***
A year passed. One day, Moody walked into the Auror office, and saw that someone was conspicuously absent.
"Tonks is on leave," Shacklebolt told the veteran Auror, "Death in the family. Her cousin."
Moody nods knowingly. Sirius Black, Tonks’ second cousin, the only relative outside of her parents that she was close to, was killed by her own aunt.
"I’ll be back," Moody mutters, and walks to the floo station.
With a burst of green smoke, Alastor was in Tonks’ apartment. Dozens of Weird Sisters posters were plastered on the wall and ceiling, and all of her robes were haphazardly strewn across the furniture. His magical eye detected Tonks on the couch, with a funerally-slow Weird Sister song on repeat on the stereo.
"Wotcha, Moody," Tonks greeted him sadly, staring up at the ceiling. Strands of her long, black hair fell like a mourning veil around her face. Moody shuffled around the couch, as Tonks folded her legs in to let him sit down.
"I’m...sorry for your loss," Moody said, sympathetically. "He was a big help to us-the Order. Despite what the courts say, he was a good bloke."
"Thanks, Moody," Tonks sat up and hugged him, her small breasts pressed against his side. Alastor was in a dilemma-he tried to keep a certain, respectful distance between them. One side of his brain told him to gently push her off and go back into the floo. The other side of his brain had other ideas. Alastor came up with a compromise.
The older Auror wrapped his big arms around the lithe, little lady, as Tonks rested her cheek on his broad shoulder. She wept softly, her tears rolling down Moody's leather duster.
"I hate that bitch!" Tonks grumbled. "I'll get her if it's the last thing I do!"
"We'll get 'em all, luv," Moody rubbed her shoulder, "I promise. We'll get 'em."
He was consoling a co-worker, Moody reasoned with himself, there was nothing wrong in that. The scent of her hair and the warmth of her cheek, however, made the older Auror’s heart pound so hard in his chest, he thought it might explode.
"Tonks," Moody said quietly, "Ya know, if there is anything I can do for you, all you have to is..."
Tonks interrupted his sentence with a peck on the lips. Alastor’s eye almost popped out of its artificial socket-his real one as well.
"You’ve been real good to me, Alastor," Tonks whispered. "I know it doesn’t seem proper, but..." Tonks hesitated for a moment.
"But what, luv?" Alastor urged her to continue.
"I guess...if I learned anything from Sirius’ death, it’s that our time on Earth is finite. We’ve gotta make the most of our time. Don’cha agree, Alastor?"
"Um...," Moody was suddenly at a loss for words, "Yes. Yes, luv, of course."
Tonks’ face moved forward again for another kiss, but this time, Moody pulled away.
"NO! I can’t," Moody’s face was bright red. He felt like he was torn in two, "I’m too old, too dangerous..."
"I don’t care," Tonks said resolutely. "I love you, Alastor. I’ve been keeping that a secret for months now, but you must know. I love you. Do you love me?"
Alastor was silent. There was the proper answer, and then there was the truth.
"Answer me! Do you love me?" Tonks repeated, sounding more desperate for an answer.
Alastor looked into her eyes. How could a beauty love a beast, he questioned himself. The answer was: Because they can.
He grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her hard.
"Is that a sufficient answer for you, luv?" Moody grinned.