Harry Potter: Tonks/Ginny
Written For: daily_deviant
Theme/kink: AU
Warnings: See, I don’t even think there are any. Sorry. That should be warning enough…
Rating: hardish R
Word Count: ~1,900
Compliant to: Um… set post-DH, but in an AU, obviously, so some things have changed.
Title: Clash
Pairing: Tonks/Ginny
Summary: Let’s get you up to speed with post-DH Potterdom. Remus died, Tonks didn’t. Ignore the epilogue, and imagine we’re a year or so post the end of the rest of the book. It pretty much explains itself from there.
“Is he asleep?”
Tonks nodded tiredly. Teddy could be very demanding sometimes when it came to bedtime. At two, he certainly knew his own mind. She was just grateful for the help she had: much as she adored him, she couldn’t help feeling that she was not cut out for single parenting. After Remus’s death (and her own near-fatal experience), she had struggled to the point of tears and acute depression. Despite the deep vein of mother love that meant that Teddy had given her a reason to continue living when her world had been collapsing around her, he had also been a huge amount of work.
Then Ginny had started visiting. Well, everyone had visited, of course: Tonks had been amazed and touched by how many people had been looking out for her. But Ginny’s visits had got longer and longer, until she was regularly staying the night. Now, she occasionally went away for the night, but her home was with Tonks and Teddy.
Tonks had been uncertain of Ginny’s feelings for a long time. Last she heard, Ginny and Harry - the Chosen One - had been an item. Even if that relationship had finished (she didn’t like to ask; in fact, spent weeks Not Asking) - how could anyone else live up to Famous Harry Potter? Eventually, she had said to Ginny one night
“Do you want to stay with me?”
Ginny had looked surprised.
“I thought we’d arranged that?”
Tonks had hesitated.
“No… You’re staying here. Do you want to stay with me?”
Ginny had laughed, waved her wand to distract Teddy with a stream of bubbles, and run over to kiss Tonks firmly on the mouth.
“I thought you’d never ask,” she’d said, lovingly. “Yes. But there’s just one thing…”
“What?”
Here it was, Tonks had thought bitterly. The statement that this was a one off thing; that Ginny couldn’t ever love Tonks.
Ginny grinned.
“Can you do something about your hair colour? The pink clashes horribly with mine!”
And Tonks had snorted, and shoved Ginny, at which point Teddy had joined in the fight and the moment had passed.
Now, Tonks and Ginny were most definitely Tonks-and-Ginny; and whilst she’d still never asked about Harry (and Ginny hadn’t inquired into the details of Tonks’s all too brief marriage), Tonks was happier than she’d ever been before. Ginny didn’t do guilt; she didn’t do the ‘bottling emotions’ thing that Remus had been so good at. If Ginny was pissed off at you, you knew - and probably found yourself on the wrong end of an expertly aimed curse. If she was happy, she’d be equally forthcoming about that. Neither of them did crying, both preferring to swear in moments of adversity; and Ginny treated Teddy as another brother (or, perhaps, a nephew: Bill and Fleur had a slightly younger daughter, who Ginny poked and laughed at and babysat with her usual savoir faire).
“Good,” said Ginny, dragging Tonks back to the present moment. “Because I have Plans for you…”
“Gin, for the last time, I am not going to dress as a vampire in order to impress the local muggles into giving us sweets for halloween. And if you suggest I get myself up as a ballerina again, I’ll hex you.”
Ginny’s brown eyes shone with amusement.
“Funnily enough, Nymphadora” - a name she insisted on using in full, despite threats that she would be known as Ginevra for the forseeable future (she knew perfectly well that Tonks was never going to be bothered with a three-syllable name) - “that was not precisely what I had in mind…”
“Oh God.”
Tonks looked at her suspiciously.
“Is he very very asleep?”
“He might be,” Tonks said cautiously.
“Good.”
Ginny beckoned Tonks to sit next to her, a faint smile crossing her face. Tonks obeyed, and at once Ginny had dropped her wand (a good sign), and had her arms around her purple-haired lover (Tonks had refused to go ‘natural’; and Ginny had never wanted her to). Her kisses were passionate and meaningful: Gin was not shy about coming forward with her wants, and it was clear that she wanted Tonks - wanted her now, right now, on the sitting-room floor. (Patience was not one of Ginny’s strong points. At moments like this, Tonks certainly didn’t mind.)
There was one problem with being a Metamorphmagus. At moments like this, Tonks was utterly out of control of the way her body changed. She knew, from one of Ginny’s hands tugging near her scalp, that her hair was shorter than usual: what colour it was, she had no idea (and if Ginny was going to carry on doing that, frankly, she didn’t care). Her legs were lengthening as she pulled Ginny into her lap, her arms encircling her. Ginny was making small encouraging noises in between kisses. One hand was still in Tonks’s hair, the other pulling her T-shirt up. There was a horrible moment of emptiness when they had to pull apart to allow the shirt to come over Tonks’s head; then, with a satisfied sigh, Ginny leant in against her love, rubbing up against her naked torso, the hand that had been fighting the clothing now scratching gentle, tickling nails up and down her spine.
“Are you taking control?” murmured Tonks in her ear, her own fingers slipping inside Ginny’s top to unfasten her bra.
“Mm-hm.”
“I’ll have you know… damn it…” (Tonks swore at the fastening, which was being determinedly unfriendly.) “Ah, there we are… That I am very much your elder and should therefore be…”
“Be what?”
Ginny’s left hand was slipping inside Tonks’s trousers as she spoke.
“Be anything you want,” Tonks said, happily resigning herself to being in Ginny’s hands (literally). There was a moment for dignified protest, and this was not it. At this moment, what Ginny was doing as her hand moved back and forth between Tonks’s legs was far more important than any token protest about seniority.
Her fingers on the buttons of Ginny’s shirt, she was idly undoing them, her concentration lapsing every so often as Ginny made a particularly sensuous movement down below. Her trousers were slipping now, and had settled somewhere near the middle of her thighs, giving Ginny better access to her clit, which she was stroking with a steady, firm pleasure that was making Tonks’s mind spin away in little spirals of pleasure. Her head was leaning on Ginny’s shoulder, her eyes half-closed, when suddenly Ginny pulled away.
“Gin!” Tonks whined.
“Don’t do that,” Ginny said, in such a sharp tone of voice that Tonks’s eyes opened wide and stared at her.
“What?” Tonks was honestly bewildered.
“Look at you!”
Tonks looked down at herself, feeling her hair turn the same colour red as her cheeks. Trousers half-off, naked from the waist upwards - was she really that awful to look at?
“It’s always the same,” said Ginny angrily. “I’m sick of it.”
“What have I done?”
Ginny waved a hand at her.
“Every time I try to make love to you - every time, Nymphadora, I have to put up with this. Your hair goes black, you get taller, your eyes are green, your breasts - and incidentally, I love your breasts - get so small that you’re pretty much androgynous. You know what? I’ve done that. I’ve dated the black haired, green eyed guy. His name was Harry. Remember him?”
Tonks felt as though cold water had been thrown over her. Of course she remembered Harry; of course she knew that Ginny had gone out with him - but she hadn’t realised that she was so paranoid as apparently to attempt to turn herself into a clone of him. Ginny hadn’t finished.
“Hell, what’s the problem? Do you want me to dress up as your ex-husband or something? I know I don’t have your talent, but there are always potions, after all. But you know what? You can like me for myself or you can leave.”
“It’s my house,” Tonks said inconsequentially, picking on the only thing she felt able to respond to.
Ginny’s brown eyes narrowed dangerously.
“And that’s not the point.”
“I know you loved Harry.” Tonks was ashamed of herself for sounding like an immature schoolgirl, but she’d been holding it in for too long.
“Loved Harry? God, yes, of course I did. Still do, as a matter of fact…” Tonks felt her insides plummet. “… After all, I’ve had lots of practise.”
“Ron said you’d had a crush on him for years,” Tonks mumbled.
Ginny snorted.
“Remind me to thank my brother so very much for his helpful comments. I love Harry, and I’ll always love Harry - but like a brother. Having had six of my own, you’d think I’d have realised a bit earlier, but I suppose I might have been put off by the fact that he didn’t have red hair. A brother, Nymphadora. And please don’t take to turning into Ron or Charlie or anyone, either, because I wouldn’t fancy that any better, okay?”
“Really?”
Ginny rolled her eyes.
“No, I’m just making it up to make you feel better - what do you think? Yes, really. I mean, for goodness sake, you’re the one with a dead husband who’s the father of your baby. And you feel insecure?”
“I’m sorry, Gin,” Tonks apologised. “But… you know - Harry Potter! He tends to beat a middle-aged metamorphmagus on points and leave room over to beat a couple more people too. You dated Harry Potter..”
“Yes, I did,” agreed Ginny, “and now he’s living very happily, thank you very much, in some sort of dubious threesome with Ron and Hermione and before you ask - no, I haven’t asked them how that works and I’d rather not know. I have to keep reminding myself that just because I look on Harry as a brother doesn’t actually mean he’s Ron’s brother and it’s all incestuous. Now, any more questions whilst we’re on the subject?”
“No more questions,” said Tonks meekly; and Ginny smiled.
“Good. Now, where were we…?”
And she pulled Tonks back towards her firmly, pushing her trousers totally to the ground. The couple took off where they had left off, hands and mouths kissing and touching, plundering and stroking. Tonks felt content in her own body; suddenly realised the anxiety and tension that had been inside her every time she made love with Ginny: the constant, nagging, background thought - does she love him more than me? She was freed, to be who she was, to love Ginny in every way she wished; every way she thought of…
She gasped as Ginny’s teeth closed gently round her clit, her tongue swirling circles around it.
“Ginny, yes!” she murmured, her fingers digging into Ginny’s shoulders to hold herself steady.
She felt Ginny move up her body, and her own hands moved down in order that she could give Ginny the same pleasure that she received. She ceased to think about what her body might be doing, allowing it to change as suited herself and - by the look of her - Ginny. Finally, when both of them were gasping and sighing with pleasure, Ginny took another look at her lover and gave a reluctant grin.
“Oh well; you can’t have everything. I expect I’ll get used to the competing colours.”
Tonks’s hair was bright bubblegum pink.
Theme/kink: AU
Warnings: See, I don’t even think there are any. Sorry. That should be warning enough…
Rating: hardish R
Word Count: ~1,900
Compliant to: Um… set post-DH, but in an AU, obviously, so some things have changed.
Title: Clash
Pairing: Tonks/Ginny
Summary: Let’s get you up to speed with post-DH Potterdom. Remus died, Tonks didn’t. Ignore the epilogue, and imagine we’re a year or so post the end of the rest of the book. It pretty much explains itself from there.
“Is he asleep?”
Tonks nodded tiredly. Teddy could be very demanding sometimes when it came to bedtime. At two, he certainly knew his own mind. She was just grateful for the help she had: much as she adored him, she couldn’t help feeling that she was not cut out for single parenting. After Remus’s death (and her own near-fatal experience), she had struggled to the point of tears and acute depression. Despite the deep vein of mother love that meant that Teddy had given her a reason to continue living when her world had been collapsing around her, he had also been a huge amount of work.
Then Ginny had started visiting. Well, everyone had visited, of course: Tonks had been amazed and touched by how many people had been looking out for her. But Ginny’s visits had got longer and longer, until she was regularly staying the night. Now, she occasionally went away for the night, but her home was with Tonks and Teddy.
Tonks had been uncertain of Ginny’s feelings for a long time. Last she heard, Ginny and Harry - the Chosen One - had been an item. Even if that relationship had finished (she didn’t like to ask; in fact, spent weeks Not Asking) - how could anyone else live up to Famous Harry Potter? Eventually, she had said to Ginny one night
“Do you want to stay with me?”
Ginny had looked surprised.
“I thought we’d arranged that?”
Tonks had hesitated.
“No… You’re staying here. Do you want to stay with me?”
Ginny had laughed, waved her wand to distract Teddy with a stream of bubbles, and run over to kiss Tonks firmly on the mouth.
“I thought you’d never ask,” she’d said, lovingly. “Yes. But there’s just one thing…”
“What?”
Here it was, Tonks had thought bitterly. The statement that this was a one off thing; that Ginny couldn’t ever love Tonks.
Ginny grinned.
“Can you do something about your hair colour? The pink clashes horribly with mine!”
And Tonks had snorted, and shoved Ginny, at which point Teddy had joined in the fight and the moment had passed.
Now, Tonks and Ginny were most definitely Tonks-and-Ginny; and whilst she’d still never asked about Harry (and Ginny hadn’t inquired into the details of Tonks’s all too brief marriage), Tonks was happier than she’d ever been before. Ginny didn’t do guilt; she didn’t do the ‘bottling emotions’ thing that Remus had been so good at. If Ginny was pissed off at you, you knew - and probably found yourself on the wrong end of an expertly aimed curse. If she was happy, she’d be equally forthcoming about that. Neither of them did crying, both preferring to swear in moments of adversity; and Ginny treated Teddy as another brother (or, perhaps, a nephew: Bill and Fleur had a slightly younger daughter, who Ginny poked and laughed at and babysat with her usual savoir faire).
“Good,” said Ginny, dragging Tonks back to the present moment. “Because I have Plans for you…”
“Gin, for the last time, I am not going to dress as a vampire in order to impress the local muggles into giving us sweets for halloween. And if you suggest I get myself up as a ballerina again, I’ll hex you.”
Ginny’s brown eyes shone with amusement.
“Funnily enough, Nymphadora” - a name she insisted on using in full, despite threats that she would be known as Ginevra for the forseeable future (she knew perfectly well that Tonks was never going to be bothered with a three-syllable name) - “that was not precisely what I had in mind…”
“Oh God.”
Tonks looked at her suspiciously.
“Is he very very asleep?”
“He might be,” Tonks said cautiously.
“Good.”
Ginny beckoned Tonks to sit next to her, a faint smile crossing her face. Tonks obeyed, and at once Ginny had dropped her wand (a good sign), and had her arms around her purple-haired lover (Tonks had refused to go ‘natural’; and Ginny had never wanted her to). Her kisses were passionate and meaningful: Gin was not shy about coming forward with her wants, and it was clear that she wanted Tonks - wanted her now, right now, on the sitting-room floor. (Patience was not one of Ginny’s strong points. At moments like this, Tonks certainly didn’t mind.)
There was one problem with being a Metamorphmagus. At moments like this, Tonks was utterly out of control of the way her body changed. She knew, from one of Ginny’s hands tugging near her scalp, that her hair was shorter than usual: what colour it was, she had no idea (and if Ginny was going to carry on doing that, frankly, she didn’t care). Her legs were lengthening as she pulled Ginny into her lap, her arms encircling her. Ginny was making small encouraging noises in between kisses. One hand was still in Tonks’s hair, the other pulling her T-shirt up. There was a horrible moment of emptiness when they had to pull apart to allow the shirt to come over Tonks’s head; then, with a satisfied sigh, Ginny leant in against her love, rubbing up against her naked torso, the hand that had been fighting the clothing now scratching gentle, tickling nails up and down her spine.
“Are you taking control?” murmured Tonks in her ear, her own fingers slipping inside Ginny’s top to unfasten her bra.
“Mm-hm.”
“I’ll have you know… damn it…” (Tonks swore at the fastening, which was being determinedly unfriendly.) “Ah, there we are… That I am very much your elder and should therefore be…”
“Be what?”
Ginny’s left hand was slipping inside Tonks’s trousers as she spoke.
“Be anything you want,” Tonks said, happily resigning herself to being in Ginny’s hands (literally). There was a moment for dignified protest, and this was not it. At this moment, what Ginny was doing as her hand moved back and forth between Tonks’s legs was far more important than any token protest about seniority.
Her fingers on the buttons of Ginny’s shirt, she was idly undoing them, her concentration lapsing every so often as Ginny made a particularly sensuous movement down below. Her trousers were slipping now, and had settled somewhere near the middle of her thighs, giving Ginny better access to her clit, which she was stroking with a steady, firm pleasure that was making Tonks’s mind spin away in little spirals of pleasure. Her head was leaning on Ginny’s shoulder, her eyes half-closed, when suddenly Ginny pulled away.
“Gin!” Tonks whined.
“Don’t do that,” Ginny said, in such a sharp tone of voice that Tonks’s eyes opened wide and stared at her.
“What?” Tonks was honestly bewildered.
“Look at you!”
Tonks looked down at herself, feeling her hair turn the same colour red as her cheeks. Trousers half-off, naked from the waist upwards - was she really that awful to look at?
“It’s always the same,” said Ginny angrily. “I’m sick of it.”
“What have I done?”
Ginny waved a hand at her.
“Every time I try to make love to you - every time, Nymphadora, I have to put up with this. Your hair goes black, you get taller, your eyes are green, your breasts - and incidentally, I love your breasts - get so small that you’re pretty much androgynous. You know what? I’ve done that. I’ve dated the black haired, green eyed guy. His name was Harry. Remember him?”
Tonks felt as though cold water had been thrown over her. Of course she remembered Harry; of course she knew that Ginny had gone out with him - but she hadn’t realised that she was so paranoid as apparently to attempt to turn herself into a clone of him. Ginny hadn’t finished.
“Hell, what’s the problem? Do you want me to dress up as your ex-husband or something? I know I don’t have your talent, but there are always potions, after all. But you know what? You can like me for myself or you can leave.”
“It’s my house,” Tonks said inconsequentially, picking on the only thing she felt able to respond to.
Ginny’s brown eyes narrowed dangerously.
“And that’s not the point.”
“I know you loved Harry.” Tonks was ashamed of herself for sounding like an immature schoolgirl, but she’d been holding it in for too long.
“Loved Harry? God, yes, of course I did. Still do, as a matter of fact…” Tonks felt her insides plummet. “… After all, I’ve had lots of practise.”
“Ron said you’d had a crush on him for years,” Tonks mumbled.
Ginny snorted.
“Remind me to thank my brother so very much for his helpful comments. I love Harry, and I’ll always love Harry - but like a brother. Having had six of my own, you’d think I’d have realised a bit earlier, but I suppose I might have been put off by the fact that he didn’t have red hair. A brother, Nymphadora. And please don’t take to turning into Ron or Charlie or anyone, either, because I wouldn’t fancy that any better, okay?”
“Really?”
Ginny rolled her eyes.
“No, I’m just making it up to make you feel better - what do you think? Yes, really. I mean, for goodness sake, you’re the one with a dead husband who’s the father of your baby. And you feel insecure?”
“I’m sorry, Gin,” Tonks apologised. “But… you know - Harry Potter! He tends to beat a middle-aged metamorphmagus on points and leave room over to beat a couple more people too. You dated Harry Potter..”
“Yes, I did,” agreed Ginny, “and now he’s living very happily, thank you very much, in some sort of dubious threesome with Ron and Hermione and before you ask - no, I haven’t asked them how that works and I’d rather not know. I have to keep reminding myself that just because I look on Harry as a brother doesn’t actually mean he’s Ron’s brother and it’s all incestuous. Now, any more questions whilst we’re on the subject?”
“No more questions,” said Tonks meekly; and Ginny smiled.
“Good. Now, where were we…?”
And she pulled Tonks back towards her firmly, pushing her trousers totally to the ground. The couple took off where they had left off, hands and mouths kissing and touching, plundering and stroking. Tonks felt content in her own body; suddenly realised the anxiety and tension that had been inside her every time she made love with Ginny: the constant, nagging, background thought - does she love him more than me? She was freed, to be who she was, to love Ginny in every way she wished; every way she thought of…
She gasped as Ginny’s teeth closed gently round her clit, her tongue swirling circles around it.
“Ginny, yes!” she murmured, her fingers digging into Ginny’s shoulders to hold herself steady.
She felt Ginny move up her body, and her own hands moved down in order that she could give Ginny the same pleasure that she received. She ceased to think about what her body might be doing, allowing it to change as suited herself and - by the look of her - Ginny. Finally, when both of them were gasping and sighing with pleasure, Ginny took another look at her lover and gave a reluctant grin.
“Oh well; you can’t have everything. I expect I’ll get used to the competing colours.”
Tonks’s hair was bright bubblegum pink.