Fic: Just Tonks, Year Six
Title: Just Tonks
Rating: PG13 [overall]
Characters Tonks/Charlie
Notes: This whole series is unbeta read, and slightly raw, any thing that you think needs fixed let me know... I appreciate constructive criticism.
Summary: One year of Tonks time at Hogwarts for each chapter...
Year 6: Sport
Last year, when she first told Professor Snape that she wanted to become an auror, he had stopped just short of laughing in her face. He told her that no one from Slytherin had ever been made an auror. What did she think she was gaining by being in Slytherin? Connections? Yes. Comrades? Yes. Slytherins stuck together. Slytherins made plans that did not fall through. Slytherins took a means to it's end, but Slytherins did not become aurors.
House pride was all well and good. She loved being in Slytherin: being the sly half-blood who was a Tonks and not a Black, and would have her own way. House pride was brilliant... when you were at Hogwarts. Tonks could not understand what houses had to do with careers as adults. She would be turned down for a job because of what some dingy hat said when she was eleven?
Snape had a point, though, houses were about connections with your like-minded peers, and the ministry was full to bursting with bleeding Gryfindors and Hufflepuffs. Still, Slytherins stood a fighting chance. Malfoy bought himself into any organization he wanted to be a part of, and just about anyone with half a brain knew he had been a Death Eater. There was always a way to get what you wanted, and Tonks wanted to be an auror so she could stomp on people like Malfoy, who stomped on people like her. It should be simple.
She turned to Charlie. He was busy writing out Quidditch plays on a piece of parchment, and hadn't said anything to her in a long while. He'd been made Gryffindor's Quidditch captain, as if his head wasn't big enough already.
"You think your da would put in a good word for me at the ministry?"
"He works in muggle artifacts." Charlie replied, irritably, scribbling out something on his parchment, before throwing his quill down in frustration.
"Besides," he went on, "why would he put his reputation on the line for a clumsy Slytherin girl who doesn't stand a chance of making it through the first year of auror training."
That grin ought to be made illegal. Someone ought to let the Weasel know that it wasn't attractive to get joy out of crushing other people's dreams. She just glared at him until he sighed.
"No sense of humour today, Dora?" He paused, just long enough, to shrug and collect his things, "I'll ask him."
Tonks sighed too, leaning back to let the sun from the high-vaulted library windows shine on her face. It was exhausting hanging around with the Weasel. She had to constantly remind him that he wasn't funny, and one snicker set her back years.
"Listen," he was saying now, though she was no longer looking at him, "I've got to go to Quidditch practice, but I'll see you in the Astronomy tower after dinner, right?"
"Yes, sure" she said with a wave, hooking her knees on the bench so she could lean back even further into the sun. She could feel his eyes lingering on her, and had to suppress the smirk. This was their new game. Who could drive the other into breaking down and snogging faster. She felt she had a pretty good record, since they began playing at this last year, but he did get to her on occasion. It was that big stupid grin of his that got to her.
She'd asked him, once, if he had another girl he did this with, trying to define whatever the hell it was they were to each other. He just gave her that cheeky smirk and said sure, dozens, before turning the question back at her, and she had taken the initiative to be just as cheeky. She assured him that the girls loved her. Even though, she knew she had only ever kissed him, and suspected he didn't go around kissing anyone else, either. It was one of the few things they did together without arguing.
Tonks leaned against the parapet on one elbow and stared down over the side of the Astronomy tower, while simutanilously brushing her newly made wavy blonde hair out of her face. She puffed at her ciggarette, irritably, noticing the ash was almost down to the filter.
She'd come here ten minutes early so she could initiate this plan. Dinner had been over forever now, and the Weasel still was not here. It was chilly, boring, and her newly increased bust size was making her back start to ache. How did some girls carry around these things all the time. They were really rather heavy, and she found herself longing to be back in her normal body.
"Tonks?" A familiar voice asked from behind her, slightly laced with confusion.
"Who is this Tonks of whom you speak?" She asked, trying to sound as seductive as she knew how, while arching her eyebrows and forcing her lips to purse slightly, rather than smirk. She knew he would know it was her, but that didn't matter for the game to work. She had gone for the height of cliché beauty this time, right down to the cut of her robes, and she could already feel his eyes taking her in hungrily.
Charlie's hands were on her before she even registered him moving toward her, and his lips were soon to follow. He stationed his hands at her hips, pulling her forward so that he could latch his on to her collarbone. There was a groan bubbling in the back of her throat, and she felt like she may choke on it.
"Charlie." She whispered into his hair, letting her head fall backward, much the way she had done in the library this morning, exposing her neck to the onslaught of his teeth and tongue. She was thankful for the wall behind her when his hands began to slide up her abdomen to meet at her breasts, each cupping one and kneading it gently.
"Like yours better." He murmured, letting his lips slide down her chest toward them. She had her hands buried encouragingly in his hair, and chuckled at the comment. He always said that, no matter how she changed herself. She didn't know if he meant it or not, or if he just thought it was the right thing to say, but he never failed to mention it.
He'd run a finger over thinner or fuller lips and say, "I like yours better", before capturing them with his own, or he'd run a hand through her shortened or coloured hair and say, "I like yours better." This was the most drastic change she had ever made to herself, and she had been wondering how long it would take him to say the familiar words.
Tonks let her fingers tighten in his hair when she felt him undo the tight robe clasps against her bust.
"What if some prefect comes up here and catches us?" She choked out, suddenly worried, as more and more of her flesh was bared and devoured by that wicked mouth.
"I'll ask him to join." He said into her cleavage, and when she laughed, he allowed her to pull his head up to her mouth for a proper kiss.
Year Seven
Rating: PG13 [overall]
Characters Tonks/Charlie
Notes: This whole series is unbeta read, and slightly raw, any thing that you think needs fixed let me know... I appreciate constructive criticism.
Summary: One year of Tonks time at Hogwarts for each chapter...
Year 6: Sport
Last year, when she first told Professor Snape that she wanted to become an auror, he had stopped just short of laughing in her face. He told her that no one from Slytherin had ever been made an auror. What did she think she was gaining by being in Slytherin? Connections? Yes. Comrades? Yes. Slytherins stuck together. Slytherins made plans that did not fall through. Slytherins took a means to it's end, but Slytherins did not become aurors.
House pride was all well and good. She loved being in Slytherin: being the sly half-blood who was a Tonks and not a Black, and would have her own way. House pride was brilliant... when you were at Hogwarts. Tonks could not understand what houses had to do with careers as adults. She would be turned down for a job because of what some dingy hat said when she was eleven?
Snape had a point, though, houses were about connections with your like-minded peers, and the ministry was full to bursting with bleeding Gryfindors and Hufflepuffs. Still, Slytherins stood a fighting chance. Malfoy bought himself into any organization he wanted to be a part of, and just about anyone with half a brain knew he had been a Death Eater. There was always a way to get what you wanted, and Tonks wanted to be an auror so she could stomp on people like Malfoy, who stomped on people like her. It should be simple.
She turned to Charlie. He was busy writing out Quidditch plays on a piece of parchment, and hadn't said anything to her in a long while. He'd been made Gryffindor's Quidditch captain, as if his head wasn't big enough already.
"You think your da would put in a good word for me at the ministry?"
"He works in muggle artifacts." Charlie replied, irritably, scribbling out something on his parchment, before throwing his quill down in frustration.
"Besides," he went on, "why would he put his reputation on the line for a clumsy Slytherin girl who doesn't stand a chance of making it through the first year of auror training."
That grin ought to be made illegal. Someone ought to let the Weasel know that it wasn't attractive to get joy out of crushing other people's dreams. She just glared at him until he sighed.
"No sense of humour today, Dora?" He paused, just long enough, to shrug and collect his things, "I'll ask him."
Tonks sighed too, leaning back to let the sun from the high-vaulted library windows shine on her face. It was exhausting hanging around with the Weasel. She had to constantly remind him that he wasn't funny, and one snicker set her back years.
"Listen," he was saying now, though she was no longer looking at him, "I've got to go to Quidditch practice, but I'll see you in the Astronomy tower after dinner, right?"
"Yes, sure" she said with a wave, hooking her knees on the bench so she could lean back even further into the sun. She could feel his eyes lingering on her, and had to suppress the smirk. This was their new game. Who could drive the other into breaking down and snogging faster. She felt she had a pretty good record, since they began playing at this last year, but he did get to her on occasion. It was that big stupid grin of his that got to her.
She'd asked him, once, if he had another girl he did this with, trying to define whatever the hell it was they were to each other. He just gave her that cheeky smirk and said sure, dozens, before turning the question back at her, and she had taken the initiative to be just as cheeky. She assured him that the girls loved her. Even though, she knew she had only ever kissed him, and suspected he didn't go around kissing anyone else, either. It was one of the few things they did together without arguing.
Tonks leaned against the parapet on one elbow and stared down over the side of the Astronomy tower, while simutanilously brushing her newly made wavy blonde hair out of her face. She puffed at her ciggarette, irritably, noticing the ash was almost down to the filter.
She'd come here ten minutes early so she could initiate this plan. Dinner had been over forever now, and the Weasel still was not here. It was chilly, boring, and her newly increased bust size was making her back start to ache. How did some girls carry around these things all the time. They were really rather heavy, and she found herself longing to be back in her normal body.
"Tonks?" A familiar voice asked from behind her, slightly laced with confusion.
"Who is this Tonks of whom you speak?" She asked, trying to sound as seductive as she knew how, while arching her eyebrows and forcing her lips to purse slightly, rather than smirk. She knew he would know it was her, but that didn't matter for the game to work. She had gone for the height of cliché beauty this time, right down to the cut of her robes, and she could already feel his eyes taking her in hungrily.
Charlie's hands were on her before she even registered him moving toward her, and his lips were soon to follow. He stationed his hands at her hips, pulling her forward so that he could latch his on to her collarbone. There was a groan bubbling in the back of her throat, and she felt like she may choke on it.
"Charlie." She whispered into his hair, letting her head fall backward, much the way she had done in the library this morning, exposing her neck to the onslaught of his teeth and tongue. She was thankful for the wall behind her when his hands began to slide up her abdomen to meet at her breasts, each cupping one and kneading it gently.
"Like yours better." He murmured, letting his lips slide down her chest toward them. She had her hands buried encouragingly in his hair, and chuckled at the comment. He always said that, no matter how she changed herself. She didn't know if he meant it or not, or if he just thought it was the right thing to say, but he never failed to mention it.
He'd run a finger over thinner or fuller lips and say, "I like yours better", before capturing them with his own, or he'd run a hand through her shortened or coloured hair and say, "I like yours better." This was the most drastic change she had ever made to herself, and she had been wondering how long it would take him to say the familiar words.
Tonks let her fingers tighten in his hair when she felt him undo the tight robe clasps against her bust.
"What if some prefect comes up here and catches us?" She choked out, suddenly worried, as more and more of her flesh was bared and devoured by that wicked mouth.
"I'll ask him to join." He said into her cleavage, and when she laughed, he allowed her to pull his head up to her mouth for a proper kiss.
Year Seven