Prompt: #110 – by luvscharlie - Percy Weasley/Nymphadora Tonks – Tonks is sent to convince Percy to join the Order.
Pairing(s): Percy Weasley/Nymphadora Tonks
Word Count: ~ 4,878
Rating: R, Semi-explicit, half-clothed sex
Notes: A huge thank you to all three of my betas, who vastly improved this piece. All errors left are mine. Written for luvscharlie for hprarefest in 2014.
Summary: Tonks pursues Percy at his mother’s request, to bring him back into the fold. However, it proves much harder than expected, and surprises abound.
Percy Weasley was a sneaky, subtle little snake of a Gryffindor, Nymphadora Tonks thought, not for the first time. Trying to corner the man for a private conversation had proven harder than trying to herd cats. It almost seemed as if he knew she was gunning for him, but that couldn’t be.
After all, no one but Molly (and perhaps Arthur) knew she was after him to join the Order. Molly had pressed her repeatedly until Tonks had finally agreed to approach the black sheep of the Weasley family about rejoining his family and joining the Order. Why her, Tonks wasn’t sure, other than she’d always been friends with Bill and Charlie, so it wasn’t like Molly was going completely outside the ‘family,’ as it were.
So far, though, she’d run into a metaphorical brick wall more than once. A very solid one, which, unlike Diagon Alley, showed no signs of opening. She’d yet to find the right combination, if there was one at all. Thus far she’d tried the direct approach, making an appointment in her own name (made and then cancelled, with all due apologies, for an urgent meeting). She made an appointment in a false name and using her Metamorphagus abilities to arrive incognito, but he’d ducked past her, a flashing memo in his hand, and she swore there’d been a spark of recognition in his eyes when they’d met hers briefly. She’d even waited in front of his office for two hours before work. She knew there hadn’t been a meeting planned, but damned if something hadn’t apparently “come up” spontaneously.
She’d even bribed his secretary to let her in – while in disguise – while he was at lunch. He had suddenly discovered all-day meetings out of the office.
“I’m sorry,” the secretary had said, in all appearances earnest and harried. “So many meetings have been popping up unexpectedly lately. I can’t keep up with all of them. Maybe later?” Her pen had hovered over her calendar, whether out of duty or in hopes of another bribe, Tonks hadn’t been sure.
Of course, it could be coincidence, but Tonks had been trained that coincidence was a myth. If it felt like a plot, it was likely a plot.
Tonks prided herself on her detection skills and her Metamorphagus skills, everything she had that made her such a damn good Auror. She had no clue what she was doing wrong when it came to Percy Weasley. She could swear there was nothing recognizable about her – she’d even changed genders at least once! – but nonetheless, he seemed to peg her every single time.
It bothered her. Deeply. Pissed her off, too.
Damn snaky Gryffindor.
She took to lurking in random places when she wasn’t on other Auror duties, hoping to spontaneously run into him. She’d even volunteered for a day of meetings between their departments. Her! When she loathed meetings! And yet, his coworker had tendered a perfectly reasonable and logical excuse for his absence. It might even have been true. Yeah, right.
Crazy. He was driving her nutters.
She huffed across the main floor of the Ministry, stalking towards the Floos. Grumpy about her failures with Molly’s task, as well as other work related things, she stomped a bit. She wanted to take off earlier than usual, grab some takeaway, and just wallow in misery for a night, forgetting about all her usual responsibilities.
A flash of red hair, unexpected, caught her eye. She’d become attuned to it over the last couple of weeks. The one thing she had yet to be able to do was follow him home. He didn’t seem to have a Floo address on public record, and trying to find it in records using her Auror credentials had led to nothing. Either he hid it himself, or he paid the clerks to keep it from everyone. He wouldn’t be the first one, Tonks knew from experience.
Tonks perked and immediately but casually drifted in that direction. It was Percy; the glint of his glasses had given him away immediately. Arthur had glasses, true, but Percy was taller, and her instincts had told her immediately that it was him and not any of the Weasley clan or one of the other unrelated redheads scattered throughout the Ministry.
She merged with the increasingly crowded lines for that particular Floo. Seemed like a lot of people were skivving off early today, she thought. She made it very near when suddenly she couldn’t find him. Blinking, she glanced around for him, still managing to maintain a casual air even in her confusion. The line of people chivvied her along, and she kept looking as she shuffled forward.
A pair of hands goosed her right at the ribs, just the particular spot she had always been sensitive. Tonks jumped but managed not to squeal – training did pay off. A pair of lips and a puff of warm breath just barely brushed the shell of her ear, accompanying a murmur. “Wotcher, Tonks,” Percy Weasley whispered. She turned her head, getting the brief glimpse of a mischievous grin and dancing blue eyes behind a pair of glasses.
Before she could speak, he slipped past her directly into the Floo, turning neatly on one heel to face her, and winked. His lips moved in an indecipherable murmur and he disappeared in a whirl of green flame.
Tonks stood utterly still, gobsmacked, her jaw not quite on the floor. Making a sound of utter disgust, at herself more than anything else, she stalked away back toward her office, early night home forgotten in her anger.
Strangely enough, though, she could still feel the warmth of his hands on her ribs.
Tonks found herself forced to call in a favor in order to gain access to a Pensieve. No amount of meditation, which she’d always been too fidgety for, or other tricks her job had taught her for recalling things had worked so far. So, to a Pensieve it was. She avoided asking Dumbledore largely because Molly had made it clear that she didn’t want the Order’s leader to know that she was actively trying to get Percy back into the fold. It also seemed more… personal at this point than just a mission for Molly.
The silver liquid danced in the dimness of the small cubicle where it was closeted. Tonks sat in front of it and skillfully drew out the memory of yesterday’s encounter at the Floo, adding it to the already shimmery liquid. She watched it whirl for a few minutes, wondering why she was so very determined. Her mind helpfully supplied the memory of the dream she’d had about Percy and those warm hands the other night. She shoved away the thought and substituted one of his mother’s desperate pleas to bring back the quietest of her children.
It wasn’t nearly so vivid as the first thought.
She took a deep breath and lowered her face to the liquid, falling into the memory she’d put within. She saw how Percy had murmured a faint word, probably a spell, and slipped to the side to circle smoothly around behind her. She saw his smirk as he goosed her and leaned in, body a hair’s breadth from hers, lips almost touching her skin as he spoke. Shivering as heat rolled slowly through her, she pegged what was bothering her about him, aside from his surprising skill at detection and evasion. Tall, lean, attractive, he hit all her buttons, and it had been a long time since she’d been involved with anyone, even casually. All she’d been focused on outside of work lately had been him, and he’d gotten under her skin in a bad way.
Shut up, brain.
She circled Percy again, noticing the nearly perfect fit of his robes. They outlined his shoulders very well.
It took two viewings before she pushed it forward enough to focus on the part where he Flooed away. She stood right in front of him, eyes a scant distance from his lips, and watched them over and over, reading every little movement until she was certain of the destination to which he had Flooed.
It was a couple of hours, at least, before she pulled out of the memory and restored it safely to her head. She’d known people to accidentally leave memories in the communal Auror Pensieves before, and it rarely ended well. McDonald still got teased relentlessly about that childhood memory of clowns… and that was the lighter side of things.
She leaned back and stretched, back stiff from her time frozen in one position. A soft sound escaped her, of dismay among other things, as her clothes shifted and informed her that her knickers were damp and her breasts felt heavy.
Damn snake of a Gryff, she thought with a groan.
Unfortunately, the word ‘snake’ only sent her mind on a gutter trip that would have made Charlie proud. It only served to make her wiggle faintly in her seat, something she regretted because of the friction it created with her knickers. The thought of Charlie only led to wondering how Percy compared in the ‘snake’ department.
Tonks groaned and dropped her head to the desk. She gave up. Her brain was being stupid, and she was obviously absurdly tired.
Tomorrow she’d track Percy down, recruit him to the Order, and then forget all about him. Mission completed.
She puffed out a breath as her body reminded her again what it was feeling.
Yeah, like that was going to happen.
It turned out not to be quite as simple as Flooing to the location she’d painstakingly found by reading and rereading Percy’s lips. She’d done that, of course, disguised in normal Muggle fashion. No one in her class had done better at that than her, but then, her father was a Muggle-born, after all.
It led to the backroom of a small, musty bookstore. From the outside, it probably looked like a hole-in-the-wall shop only frequented by rare-book seekers. And even then, she still didn’t know where he lived, so she had to lurk nearby.
Under a DisIllusionment Charm, she stayed in the darkest corner nearest the fireplace. She was almost prepared to grab him as he left the flames; her patience, never at a premium, was nearing its end. Something stopped her. Something in the line of his jaw, perhaps. The way his shoulders slumped, in that one moment he thought himself unseen, and his eyes closed wearily behind his glasses. For a long moment, a palpable sadness hovered around him.
It was just an instant, then Tonks blinked and his shoulders were squared, his jaw set, his eyes impenetrable. Then he was beyond the reach of her arms and out the door.
Tonks wanted to kick herself for letting him get away.
And for letting him get to her.
After more painstaking stalking, Tonks finally found his little flat, mostly by merit of finding a talkative neighbor who praised, “that ginger boy who always helps me up the stairs.” Work claimed her too, though, and her time away made for some curious looks – even from Kingsley, who would usually know of any Order work, so it wasn’t any excuse.
So she waited ‘til Saturday, when dawn barely peeked over the horizon. She brazenly walked up to his door and knocked.
He looked, she thought as the door opened, about as surprised as she felt that he actually opened it for her. Percy was still in his sleepwear: a pair of lounge pants hanging precariously off hips that were almost too sharp, and not much else aside from the glasses that framed sleepy, surprised eyes. His hair stood up in every direction.
Surprise turned to resignation, and he sighed as he looked at her, leaning an arm against the door. “What do you want, Dora?” he asked.
The nickname made her want to snap at him until she remembered that he’d called her that ever since the first time she’d come over to play with Bill and Charlie all those years ago. He’d never called her anything else except in front of others at school. Her intial anger faded into a faint bewilderment as she wondered just what she needed to say after all these weeks of trying to get to him. She’d been so focused on the search that she’d forgotten to formulate her argument on Molly’s behalf.
For a moment, she half-wanted to blurt out, “You.” But that wasn’t right.
Except that it was.
“I need to talk to you,” she said bluntly, ducking under his arm. When had he grown that tall, anyway? She really didn’t remember much about Percy in school except when his brothers played pranks on him, and then red faces and anger were all she could recall.
Something in her grinned to remember the couple of pranks she and he had pulled on them, back in those much younger days before they thought much about Hogwarts letters or getting their own wands.
Percy sighed again – he always had been good at sighing, she remembered. Belatedly she realized he’d let her get past him, but by that point he’d already shut the door and locked it again as he automatically looked out the peephole. He didn’t ask her if she was followed, though the habitual move questioned it. She glared at him.
Turning back to her, he crossed his arms and looked at her sternly through those glasses, which slid a little down his nose. The overall impression didn’t work like he intended, she was sure, as she giggled at the sight.
“Dora,” he said, exasperated.
“Do you know how bleeding hard it was to find you?” Tonks demanded, putting her hands on her hips and looking up at him. Oh, she wanted to giggle again, but she had to get serious before he figured out how to boot her out and she lost her opportunity to talk to him at all.
Percy looked at her for a long moment, tossed his hands up in the air, and then stalked past her to the small kitchen table where what looked like the remains of a simple breakfast sat. This early, on a Saturday? She wondered if he were going in to work on the weekend. She supposed that wouldn’t be out of character for him.
“Of course I do,” he told her crossly, propping his hip on the table. “I made sure it was. I didn’t think you’d manage.”
“I’m not an idiot,” she snapped.
“I never said you were. But I worked very hard at keeping people from knowing where I live, and I’m very good at what I do.”
There was pride in his voice, a pride his siblings would probably see as arrogance. But Tonks suddenly saw it from another point of view –justifiable pride in knowing how to do things and doing them well. She then recalled how many OWLs and NEWTs he’d gotten, and how hard his family had ragged him for it. Except for his parents, who’d been so proud.
Her ire unraveled before it reached full snit.
“It was very difficult,” she said with a sharp nod. She studied him, feeling off-footed. More so than normal, really. Once her eyes were on him, though, she found it difficult to look away from the lanky body and prominent hip bones and bare chest. She tore her eyes back up and forced her cheeks not to heat in embarrassment. Was that a small smile at the corners of his lips? Even with her training, she suddenly wasn’t sure.
“Your mother sent me,” she blurted.
His eyebrows rose. “My mother?”
“She wants you to come home, Percy,” Tonks told him more softly. “She wants you to join the Order and come home, and be a part of the family again.”
Percy sank into his chair, smug look gone now. “She has to know I can’t do that. I can’t just give up everything I’ve worked to get for so long.”
There was something… something about the look in his eyes when he said that. But Tonks couldn’t think of what, and so she disregarded it. Instead, she paced forward to stand right in front of him, hands on her hips.
“So you’re going to give up your family for your bloody ambition?”
He tilted his head back, looking up at her. She couldn’t quite read him, though she felt like his bright blue eyes held secrets. “Yes, I am,” he said, eyes locked on hers.
Her mouth opened to make a scathing retort on his character and his ability to make decisions. Half a second before it came pouring out, she stopped, eyes narrowing. With one finger, she pushed his glasses up his nose a little. The words had come too easily; he’d held her gaze too purposefully.
“Liar,” she said.
Their eyes stayed locked, a silent battle of wills. No Occlumency, no Legilimency, just two people having a silent “am not, are too” battle. Tension quivered inside her, the prolonged stare causing it to build. She couldn’t help but think of that repeated memory of the Floo: the glint in his eyes, the warmth of his hands on her ribs. The way reliving it over and over had made her feel, warmth suffusing her body.
Tonks would never know whose eyes dipped to whose lips first, but suddenly they weren’t looking anymore but kissing. His lips were warm, even hot, perhaps slightly chapped. It didn’t matter when they parted and his tongue pushed into her mouth. Her mind shut down, arms wrapping around his shoulders even as he pulled her into his lap.
She straddled him automatically, despite the rickety sound the old kitchen chair made. She’d always been a full-speed-ahead kind of girl, and though she didn’t remember making this decision, she’d made it and she wanted to pursue it immediately. It had always surprised her mother that she wasn’t a Gryffindor.
Long fingers trailed up under her simple Muggle T-shirt, and she pressed down against him with a moan, feeling the warmth inside multiply beyond what it already had. A combination of her feelings from the Pensieve memory and the fact of him actually under her made her squirm against him. It should be too fast. Too much. Too everything. And yet it wasn’t, and she didn’t want to think about anything but how it felt anyway. She’d been immersed into him, and then into a fantasy of him, that she shouldn’t even be surprised that this was happening.
She gasped as he pinched her nipples. She looked like herself today; she hadn’t thought to be anything else, but her slim form with small breasts weren’t most men’s ideal. Percy didn’t seem to mind as he helped her strip out of her shirt and leaned his head down to suck at one with a neediness that was heady. She forgot about all her frustrations and aches and pains as he sucked, the sensation sinking all through her and making her hips buck against his. His pushed back just as insistently, and she could feel his hard cock through his thin pants and her Muggle jeans.
She heard a soft pop when his head lifted, and she made a sound of protest that he’d stopped. She heard, over the sound of their heavy breathing, the alarming creak of the chair beneath them as she moved against him.
“Fucking chair,” Percy breathed against her neck, nipping at it as if he couldn’t help himself. “Keep… meaning to fix it.” Of course, she thought in passing: the chair would break, a clumsy thing, and she’d never get to feel his cock in her.
He stood with a growl, supporting her hips and thighs with his hands. A thrill went through her at the show of strength, though it was short-lived as he deposited her on an empty section of the small, square table. Tonks flailed her hands out, gripping the edges of the table as Percy’s fingers hooked into her belt loops and tugged insistently without even bothering with the button and fly. A plate went flying to the floor and shattered, but all she could do was laugh and lift her hips to help him.
After a moment with no success, he fumbled with the closure and then successfully divested her of her denims and knickers. Her legs immediately hooked around his hips, and she yanked him closer. “Fuck, Percy, c’mon,” she urged, leaning up to meet his lips with hers.
He barely pushed down the fabric of his sleep pants before he pushed into her, sliding in easily. She let go of the table with one hand and threaded it through his hair, holding him closer. She met each of his thrusts with her hips, moaning and grunting as it got harder and faster. She was pretty sure that all the kitchenware that had been on the table had fallen and shattered, but she didn’t care, chasing this high of pleasure with him. The table was much sturdier than the chair.
Tonks squealed when he gripped her hips and lifted them a little higher, tilting them just so and managing to hit just the right spot. “There, there, there,” she babbled, clutching at him now instead of the table. “Percy, yes, there!”
She came with a soft wail, clenching around him hard. She felt him shudder and come, his groan loud in her ear, his arms trembling under her hands. She flopped back, heedless of the small table and cracking her head painfully against it, though it didn’t lessen her pleasure one bit. He slumped forward over her, supported on shaky arms. Her lips curled up smugly when she realised he probably couldn’t stand without help.
Percy’s head lowered a little, forehead resting on her shoulder, just over her heart. The frames of his glasses pressed coolly and lightly into her skin. She could feel him pant for breath, and her hands smoothed soothingly over his hair and back now. Her own heart still raced, and he could probably feel it.
As they calmed somewhat, the moment threatened to become awkward. He lifted his head, glasses slightly smudged. Tonks grinned at him. “Table’s loads steadier than that chair of yours,” she told him, and then she winked.
It surprised a grin and a laugh out of him, and she realised in all the time she’d been following him, she hadn’t seen him laugh once.
“I keep meaning to fix it,” he said again, his face not far from hers, not pulling away quite yet. She didn’t want end this yet.
“Just a little wave of the wand,” she teased.
“My wand is otherwise occupied at the moment,” he said in mock seriousness. Ah, there it was, that spark of mischief she’d seen not too long ago.
The comment startled her, though, and it was her turn to laugh, eyes closing in her mirth. One never quite expected Percy to be funny, and when he was, it hit all the harder. How could she have forgotten how Percy had once been as much of an imp as any of the others? How he’d often tagged along, begging her to play with him too? When her eyes opened again, she found his expression intense but softened. His hand came to brush a lock of pink hair back from her face. It was short at the moment, but he pushed it back nevertheless.
“You are… always surprising, Percy Weasley,” she said after a long moment, her hand coming to circle around his wrist.
“I am a Gryffindor,” he said, obviously trying to lighten the moment, or perhaps just uncertain about whether or not this was a compliment.
“I’ve been thinking with all this run-around that you’re awfully Slytherin,” she confided, the intimacy of their bodies and his face still close to hers making her brave.
His lips twitched, and an odd expression crossed his face. “I nearly was. The Hat wanted me there,” he told her in the same soft tone she’d just used.
Something settled in her chest when she realized from his vulnerable expression that she was possibly the first person he’d ever told that. She smiled and twined her arms around his neck. “You’re a manticore. Rawr,” she said, biting at his nose playfully.
He snorted, the levity saving the moment, and he moved back to the chair, holding onto her to keep their tenuous connection. She helped him by settling onto his lap. His pants were a black puddle of fabric on the floor.
“I didn’t mean for this to happen, but I’m not apologising,” he said after a long moment of looking at her.
She pushed his glasses back up with a finger again. “I didn’t mean for it to, but I’m not apologising either.” She fiddled with his frames, unable to help herself. The next words came unbidden. “Won’t you come home and join the Order?” she asked.
It wasn’t just for Molly, not now. This manticore of a man intrigued her, and she admitted she’d like to try this awesome sex thing with him again, sans broken kitchenware next time. (He hadn’t complained about that yet, something that surprised her. He was always so neat.)
Percy simply looked at her for the longest time, his eyes unreadable. The previous tension threatened to build and sweep over them again, and she knew she wasn’t the only one to feel it. His cock twitched slightly against her. Though she knew, since she kept her mind well shielded, that he wasn’t literally looking into her mind or soul, it still felt like it.
Silently he took her hand, guiding her fingers to the nape of his neck. She touched the soft hairs there, but he slowly moved her fingers down, one vertebra at a time. One, two, three bumps, just a short way. That was when she felt the faint tingle of magic.
It was familiar. She had a similar, tiny spot between her toes of her left foot. It was the smallest of markers, a special spell cast so Dumbledore could find his agents in dire circumstances, but virtually undetectable unless you knew exactly what to look for and where to look. Her mouth opened, but once again his expression closed it before words came out.
In that instant, she realised he was already an agent, already following orders – a spy in the heart of the Ministry, hidden from the Dark Lord and his spies by a well-known break from his Order family. That was why he had avoided her so much; he really couldn’t be seen taking more than the most cursory of meetings with any people who might be known to work for the Order. Tonks’ allegiances weren’t exactly a wizarding secret, though her involvement in the Order likely wasn’t “confirmed.”
“I can’t go home, Dora,” he said in a soft voice that almost broke her heart. “I’ve worked too hard for too long to go home now.”
She framed his face in her hands, seeing how very Gryffindor and how very Slytherin he was in the same moment and feeling so proud of him in every way. Her heart ached for him.
“I understand,” she said, and she leaned in to kiss him softly. “Maybe… later?”
“Maybe later,” he agreed. He tilted his head into her hand as if craving her touch, or perhaps any touch at all. How very alone he was, she thought.
She hugged him to her tightly, not caring when he returned it with too much force. It helped him, she knew without a doubt.
Eventually they parted, and things were quiet as he helped her redress. For him, it was as simple as pulling his pants back up. She made sure to goose his arse before he did so, though, and she smirked when he squawked.
“I wish I could say to come back soon,” Percy said, trying to smile as he walked her to the door.
“But it wouldn’t be safe,” she said, completing his thought for him. He nodded sadly.
“But maybe later,” she said, grinning brightly at him, though her chest felt oddly tight. He didn’t have to tell her that no one could know about this. Especially not Molly. Molly was good at a great many things, but keeping a secret like this wasn’t one of them.
“Maybe later,” he agreed again, smiling ever so faintly. He leaned down, reminding her of how tall he was, and he kissed her one more time. It drew on and on until finally they had to pull apart. She opened the door and slipped out, reluctant to leave but knowing she must.
The pinch to her arse came as a surprise, and she stumbled and nearly fell as she cried a protest. She caught only a glimpse of him over her shoulder – a flash of mischievous blue eyes and the soft sound of a laugh before the door closed and locked behind her.
Percy Weasley was a sneaky, subtle little snake of a Gryffindor, and she was so going to get him back for that one later.
Because there would be a later. She would make sure there was.
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