FIC: A Danger of her Own [Harry Potter, Remus x Tonks]
Title: A Danger of her Own
Author: Omnicat v''v
Rating: T
Genre: Romance
Spoilers & Desirable Foreknowledge: Prisoner of Azkaban, Order of the Phoenix, Half-Blood Prince and Deathly Hallows.
Warnings: Naughty Nymphadora... *waggles eyebrows*
Pairings: Remus Lupin x Nymphadora Tonks
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and everything related to him belongs to J.K. Rowling. That’s not me.
Summary: One-shot ficlet. ..."He told her he was poor. She didn’t care. He told her he was old. She’d proven him wrong. He told her he was dangerous. Well, so was she."... RLxNT, obviously.
Author’s Note: All my older fics I hadn't posted already, I'm going to post in the next week or so. I know I've said that before, but this time I mean business, because while browsing my fanfiction folder a little while ago I discovered that my hard copies of six or seven fics have vanished into thin cyber-air. Cue much shrieking and flailing and me learning more about my computer than I thought there was to know in my (futile, by the way) search for the missing files. I ended up copying the versions that were already online back into text files. When I could. I'm still waiting for the moment I suddenly remember a fic I'd never put online and have thus lost forever. 8|
A Danger of her Own
He’d told her he was poor.
She said she didn’t care.
Her job as an Auror may not be a goldmine, but she brought in enough money to support them both, if need be. She made sure to remind him she wouldn’t mind having a stay-at-home-wizard for a husband at all, each time she came home from work to greet him with her broadest smile and a lingering kiss. This time was no exception.
He’d told her he was old.
He wasn’t too old to kiss her back well enough to make her head spin. Nor was he so old that he couldn’t catch her when she tangled her young feet in the rug in the hallway, and tripped over a perfectly innocent wall. (Yes, and.)
It didn’t mean she would have any less scrapes or bruises, though. Just that as of late, the ones she did have often had different causes than before.
He’d told her he was dangerous.
Well... she had to agree.
He came dangerously close to driving her insane, at times.
The way he smiled at her, like there was nothing in the world he would rather be looking at than this clumsy, pigheaded, tomboyish Metamorphmagus, distracted her even further from where her feet were going. The way his warm arms wrapped around her protectively when she’d expected a rough encounter with the cold, hard ground made her head spin - quite literally, too.
She clung to his neck, grinning sheepishly, and he pulled her close to him. Now his smile didn’t just distract her; it drowned out everything else. There was nothing but that slight quirk of his lips, which begged to be touched, explored and conquered, before it would slip away again. Now that she had him, she never wanted to let him go again. Quickly catching him in a kiss, she pressed her body close to his, revelling in the fires this ignited all through her body.
But there was one thing she had failed to tell him.
Powerless to escape from her grasp - and quite unwilling, it seemed, despite the toll it must have taken on his back to hold her in such a position -, he slowly lowered himself to his knees, still holding her. She crawled onto his lap, trapping him in his kneeling position, and resumed her work on his lips, adding her hands in his hair to the equation. She made him moan against her mouth, caused his hands to wander off on their own accord in search for her skin.
She could be just as dangerous.
With a sudden forceful push she sent him sprawling out on the floor of the hallway, her perched on top of him. He struggled to free his legs from their awkward position as she grinned down at him.
Keen on getting his fair share from the situation, he laced the fingers of one hand through her hair as the other curled around her waist, pulling her down to him. She complied, only to seize back control by slipping her hands underneath his clothes and working her way up his chest, hiking his shirt and jumper up as she went along in tantalizing patterns across his skin.
He held his breath. "Not here."
"No-one can see." She teased his ribs.
"Nymphadora..."
And she was ruthless.
"Not smart, Remus."
She pulled his shirt over his head, taking his jumper with it, and set to work on the fastening of his trousers, cursing the fact that he wore Muggle clothes instead of the much easier to dispatch robes. He wouldn’t get to see the inside of the bedroom anytime soon...
She’d proven him wrong.
PSAN: *sigh* I need to learn to better reign in my bunnies.