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Tonks, Just Tonks

Tonks, Just Tonks



All About Me

Take this pink ribbon off my eyes.
I'm exposed
And it's no big surprise.
Don't you think I know
Exactly where I stand?
This world is forcing me
To hold your hand.
'Cause I'm just a girl,
Little 'ol me
Don't let me out of your sight.
I'm just a girl, all pretty and petite
So don't let me have any rights.


If you want to know more about me, read my profile.



All Around Me


Ginger and Snow Community
Ginger and Snow Scenes
Aveline Rousseau
Babette Delacour
Bill Weasley
Celeste Bertand
Charlie Weasley
Cho Chang
Fleur Delacour
Fred Weasley
Gabrielle Delacour
George Weasley
Randall Worthington
Remus Lupin
Non-Playing Characters
Owl Post
The Daily Prophet


The Layout

This layout was created at Premade Ljs. The header image and colors were created by Sara.

[ userinfo | livejournal userinfo ]
[ calendar | livejournal calendar ]

Shocking Revelations - 8/17/2002 [August 17, 2007 @ 1:15pm]
[ mood | shocked ]

This is a lot of information to absorb at once: Aveline actually coming to my home to see me, the existence of an illegal Wizarding syndicate run by Babette Delacour, Aveline working as the woman’s right hand, murder, she kidnapped Ron, she married Whizzy for his money

“Shit,” I growl in thought. “When you fuck with people, you really fuck with people.”

“There’s no time for this, Tonks!”

But I have already turned and am walking away from her, my mind racing in a flurry of images: flashes of Aveline from the past year, recollections of any of my encounters with Babette Delacour, then finally the goofy faces of Fred and George Weasley.

“I know, Aveline,” I snap at her and turn to meet her eyes, “We’re gonna save Fred first; then you and I are going to have a very long talk about what you’ve just told me, including all the things you’ve left out; and you’re gonna find a way to compensate for everything you’ve done to the people I love.” I pause as her jaw clenches and the hair on the back of my neck stands on end. She remains silent.

“Do you understand?” I ask calmly.

More silence as she grits her teeth.

“I’ll go to Kingsley right now,” I say evenly, fighting for emotional control. “Do you understand me, Aveline?”

“God damn it, Tonks, you stubborn bint,” she replies in exasperation, “Yes! Come on…Fred,…remember?”

It really pisses me off that I can’t go after her right now. It pisses me off even more to realize she’s right about us needing to focus on the task at hand: saving Fred Weasley.

“I’ll Firecall George at Zonko’s, tell him we’re on our way. Is Fleur there with him and Gabrielle?” I ask and Aveline nods.

“Tell him to keep Gabrielle upstairs and have Fleur meet us downstairs,” Aveline says, “I have to talk to Fleur about everything. We’ll have to break this to Gabrielle gently.”

“Good,” I reply, “I’ll Firecall Bill and tell him to meet us at Zonko’s right away. And Aveline,” I pause as we look at each other again, “You’re gonna be the one to talk to Charlie about all this. I’m sure he’ll want to know the truth about what you’ve done.”

“I already told him all this, a long time ago,” she says curtly with a smug expression on her face. “So I’ll Firecall him right after…”

“Wait just one second,” I say as I hold up my hand, “What the fuck? Charlie knows about all this?”

One corner of her mouth quirks into a half grin. It’s as if ice water flows through my spine.

“Son of a bitch,” I mutter in disbelief. She might as well have slapped me in the face. He knew about her, knew about all this. Merlin fucking damn it, I don’t believe this!

Then realization cuffs me in the jaw.

“You’re a Veela, aren’t you?”

“Sometimes I wonder how the Sorting Hat put you into Ravenclaw,” she says as she shakes her head in disbelief, “It’s certainly taken you long enough to figure things out, hasn’t it?” There’s that infuriating half grin again.

“WHIZZY!” I shout, “Whizzy come quick! I have to talk to you! Hurry, Whizzy, HURRY!!!”

“NO!” she barks, nearly begs as she lurches forward and grabs my arm in desperation. “Please, don’t, don’t do it, Tonks. Please don’t tell him,” the panic in her eyes stuns me more than all of her recent revelations. “Please let me be the one to tell him when the time comes; that’s all I ask.”

Why on earth is she asking this of me? I hear Whizzy’s footsteps on the floor above us.

“You still care about him,” I whisper. “That’s why you gave Cleansweep back to him.” Well this afternoon has been just full of surprises… “He’s going to find out about this with the others, when we meet them at Zonko’s. Maybe not the part about you being a Veela, but most of the rest of it. When this is over…you owe him the full truth, Aveline. He deserves that much.”

“I know,” she says, “And I will.” Then she looks down at the floor.

At that moment Whizzy opens the parlor doors and hurries in.

“Dorrie?” he hesitates, looking back and forth between me and Aveline. “Dorrie, darling, what has happened?”

I step toward him and loop my arm to Aveline’s elbow as the two of us turn to face him. I look at Whizzy with as bright an expression as I can muster given my concern for Fred.

“Whizzy,” I begin, “Aveline knows where Fred Weasley is being held captive. We need to get to Zonko’s right away to form a rescue party.”

Whizzy’s expression is one of shock and for once the man is completely speechless.

I turn to look at Aveline and when our eyes meet I nod at her, never once letting my gaze leave her.

You better do right by these people, Aveline. You better do right.

Apologies and Dog Bowls [July 31, 2006 @ 2:34pm]
[ mood | awake ]

Home again. Work again. Normal again.

No, on second thought, nothing that has anything to do with me is the least bit normal, I must say.

For example, take this gift…the one that I purchased for Little Bit while Whizzy and I were vacationing in Rome. You’d think that purchasing a souvenir gift for a one-hundred twenty pound puppy (Dear Merlin! Now she weighs more than I do, well, at least at my non-pregnant weight.) was even too ridiculous for even me to carry out. No, not quite.

And to top it all off, the actual gift itself is much more ridiculous than the absurdity of me purchasing a souvenir gift for a dog (even though I suspect I was just trying to come up with an excuse to actual get Charlie a gift and not the dog).

So I tuck the oversized bowl under my arm as I head for Charlie’s office. When I arrive I find him eating his lunch.

“What kind of sandwich is that you’re eating?” I ask as I stand in the doorway of his open office.

“Er,” he stammers, obviously caught off-guard, “Um, egg salad?” He looks up at me with a confused expression on his face.

“Mmmm, I forgot my lunch on the kitchen counter this morning,” I say, “Mind splitting yours with me? Besides, being six months pregnant, I’m breaking wind constantly; egg salad won’t make it any worse.”

“Sure,” he offers and moves to stand but I wave him to sit back down. “What the hell is that?” he asks as he motions to the huge bowl I’m carrying. I place the obnoxious monstrosity on his desk before I sit in the chair facing Charlie.

“A present, er, for Bit,” I say as I notice Charlie staring doubtfully at the bowl. “It’s a replica of the Coliseum in Rome.”

“For Bit? You’re kidding, right?” he asks, “What would she want with a replica of the Coliseum?” He laughs and shakes his head. “You’re losing it, Tonks.” He jibes.

“Just wait, just you wait, and watch this,” I say as I stand and move until my face hovers just above the bowl-shaped model. “This is the most brilliant thing. Just watch.” I crouch by the bowl on Charlie’s desk and place my hands on either side of the bowl. Soon a slight trickling announces the gentle whooshing of water as it fills the bowl, lolling in circles, around and around, until it is nearly filled.

“Gryffindor’s Ghost that’s wicked!”

“Not over yet, look,” I nod toward the water’s surface and soon two ethereal Roman ships appear opposite each other from across the bowl. Once they completely materialize, oars row the crafts in circles along the rim. “Thought Bit might like having a water bowl like this.” I sit back down and Charlie and I watch the two little ships as they travel in circles around the circumference of the Coliseum model. “And in about five minutes the ships will disappear and the water will drain until someone reactivates the charm by hovering above the surface again.”

“Like Bit going to the water bowl for a cool drink?” he asks with a smile, “Fantastic gift, Tonks, absolutely amazing.”

He offers me the uneaten half of his egg salad sandwich.

“Remind me to stay away from you for the rest of the day.”

“As if you won’t be farting and belching the whole afternoon yourself,” I reply. I take a bite of the sandwich. “Mmm, but it is good. Molly’s recipe?” He nods.

“So tell me about Rome. I would have loved to seen it with you.” He looks across at me and scrunches his eyebrows. “Um, er, you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I think I do, Charlie,” I reply with a smile as I begin to tell him about my trip to Rome. We fall into a casual comfort as he comments on my adventures. I lose track of the time as we banter back and forth.

“But I think you would’ve chosen to be a Gladiator or a Roman General instead of an Emperor,” I say with a giggle. “You would have died laughing had you seen all those loaves of bread pelting Whizzy for granting that poor fighter his life.” We both chuckle before a sudden silence overtakes the room.

“Well, thanks for the lunch,” I say. “You’re a lifesaver, and kiss Little Bit for me, won’t you? I only wish I could be there to see her when she first drinks out of this.” I motion toward the Coliseum dog water bowl as I stand to leave.

“Tonks,” Charlie says awkwardly, “Don’t go!…Just yet?”

I stop before taking a step.

“Charlie? Is everything alright? What’s wrong? Are Aveline and the baby okay?”

“They’re fine,” he replies, “It’s just, well, it’s just that…I want to, I want to…I need to apologize to you.”

</i>An apology out of nowhere and why?</i>

“What are you talking about, Charlie?”

Slumming [July 11, 2006 @ 3:02pm]
[ mood | complacent ]

“I do so wish you had listened to me earlier,” Whizzy sighs as he wipes his brow with a handkerchief. He considers the shops and vendors up one side of the quaint street before turning to scrutinize the opposite direction.


“Are we lost?” I ask, trying not to smile. “Because if we are, all we have to do is ask one of the local merchants for assistance.”


Whizzy shoots a shocked stare at me. “Have you learned nothing about these natives? First we request assistance from one of them and then the next we know that is that we will be robbed and assaulted.”


“That’s not going to happen, Whizzy,” I correct him, “You forget I’m an Auror.”


“An Auror who is five months pregnant, for Jove’s sake.”


“I can still kick your arse,” I snap out at him angrily before I realize what I’ve said. I can tell by his expression that he is taken aback by my sudden change of tone.


The more things change, the more they stay the same…yes, I am NOT supposed to say such words or act in such a bold and brazen way. But that’s me. That’s what I am about. It doesn’t bother me in the least to approach a complete stranger in a foreign country where I don’t speak the language. It’s times like these when I see how different Whizzy and I truly are.


“I’m sorry, Whiz,” I catch myself, “I didn’t mean to sound so spiteful.” He studies me for a moment more, weighing his options, I’m sure.


“I understand,” he begins, “I should not have been so patronizing. I did not mean to belittle you.”


“I know, sweetie,” I smile and reach to take his hand, threading my fingers with his. “I think sometimes I just automatically feel the need to defend myself to you, considering the way things used to be between us. It’s just a knee-jerk response.” As I speak he gently leads me along the cobblestone walk.


“I would never dare to put you on a shelf again, Dorrie,” he says as he cuts his eyes over to me. “I made that mistake once.” Whizzy looks up to study the stone buildings along the alleyway and I notice his vision is drawn to the clothes hanging from lines strung along pulleys across the alley. “Sometimes,” he hesitates, “I forget how demanding I can be.” He pulls my hand to his mouth for a kiss as we continue along. “I was raised in a certain way, with certain requirements and expectations of discrimination.” He pauses. “Be patient with me?” he pouts playfully, “Or, what was it that you mentioned a moment ago about ‘kicking my arse’? Against my better judgment, that sounds like it might be pleasurable.” He grins and cocks an eyebrow.


“You’re terrible,” I laugh softly as we stop and face each other, his arms slipping around what’s left of my waist. His fingers can still touch at the small of my back in spite of my abdominal expansion and the feel of his soft embrace comforts me, cradles me. The warm air filters through his cotton polo and emphasizes the heat coming off his chest as I rest my hands over his heart. “It’s a hot, sunny day. Let’s find a little café where we can get a cool drink and discuss my appreciation for your bare bum.”


We continue along the avenue, hand-in-hand, and time ceases to exist in this little alley hidden somewhere deep in this ancient city once the center of the world. Each of the buildings snuggled together is painted a different color of the sun. Balconies speckle the profile of the lane and upper windows and doorways are flanked by shutters and window boxes full of bright flowers.


“A bit like Diagon Alley,” Whizzy leans to whisper in my ear, “Would you not agree?”


“Somewhat,” I begin as we pass by an antique shop with an enormous suit of armor in the large front window. “Only different too,” I add, “Not as rushed and stressed. The people here, they seem as if they aren’t worried with the bustle of coming and going like we are back home.”


“This place does have an atmosphere of mindfulness,” Whizzy observes, “In spite of its rustic feel.”


When we reach the corner of the avenue I find that we have come to a stop in front of a small café. Not a fancy, upscale establishment, like one that we would come across in a more affluent neighborhood, but a simple little restaurant with lots of floor-length windows and a patio flanking each of the street-side walls. The paint on the door is a dull and chipped red, now dusty with wear. This place makes me think of the Leaky Cauldron, except with much more sunshine and red and white checkered tablecloths. Whizzy tries to nudge me past the entrance.


“We should start heading back to the hotel, should we not?” he asks as he tugs gently at my hand. “There is quite an elegant bistro behind the lobby.” His voice is hopeful as he waits for my response.


But I hesitate, turning away from his imploring expression to catch sight of someone who must be the café owner calling up to his wife in their flat on the floor above the restaurant. I have no idea what this frugal middle-aged man is calling out to his spouse overhead as he wipes his hands on his faded apron…once dark but now a pale grey from years of use. The color of the tattered apron matches his hair and the whiskers of his moustache. The man’s attention drops from the window above until his vision sets upon me as I stand not more than a meter in front of him.


“Ciao singnorina,” he says before he glances at my belly, “Oh, scusa, scusa signora…mama piccolo!” He smiles wide before he pats his belly and calls up to his wife, “Hey il mama, scende e vede il mama inglese piccolo.”


I glance over to Whizzy and shrug my shoulders with a grin.


“He wants his wife to come downstairs to see the little English mama,” Whizzy says. A few moments later the proprietor’s plump wife appears inside.


“Entrato, entra, il mama inglese piccolo,” her solid comforting hands implore me with a surprising grace to come closer before she gently hugs me to her bosom.


When she releases me I look over at Whizzy once more and he nods his consent before I step into the café.

Orient Express Part 3 - NC17 [July 10, 2006 @ 1:30pm]
[ mood | horny ]

Lunch was wonderful, simply wonderful. I’m used to Mr. Chippy, so I always feel like such a rube whenever I end up on an adventure with Whizzy. It’s as if I feel helpless because at times I can’t even read the menus at some of the places he likes to eat. I end up having to ask him for help ordering. Well at least this time the menu was in English as well as French.


So I ordered Nicoise Salad with smoked Scottish salmon. I really can’t stomach fried fish with my pregnancy, but fresh and smoked fish are just fine for my tummy to handle.


We took tea in our compartment suite and dressed formally for dinner. Whizzy thinks of everything, so he arranged for us to have a private table, which is extremely rare on a train. The setting was quite romantic, as our table was next to the window where we could look out across the moonlit landscapes of lakes, forests, and mountains.


“Can we sleep with the windows in our cabin bare tonight?” I ask as I stare out at the silver and shadows. Whizzy looks up from his meal abruptly.


“Of course,” he replies as his eyes turn to focus past the glass toward which I am gazing. Our eyes meet in our reflections…


After our silent and shy walk back to our cabin suite, a walk filled with furtive glances and tightly held hands, our beds have been lowered, the linens turned down for us. The two beds are one above the other, like bunk beds. I grin at the thought.


“Good thing I am a wizard and can expand the bed to hold two,” he smiles as he removes his wand from his white dinner jacket. With a flourish from his hand the upper bunk lifts itself to close in place. A second flourish and the bottom bunk widens enough to hold us both, but not much bigger, just enough room for a cozy pair. “Shall you be comfortable enough, or should I extend the edges more?” he asks as I remove my earrings and bracelet.


“No, this will be more than fine.”


“Then do you wish to sleep on the inside or the outside?”


I stop to think. “Well, I know you would like the outside,” I say as he nods his agreement slowly, as if he is studying me as I speak. “But I will probably have to go at least three or four times before morning, so unless you want to get up and let me off the bed…”


“You have the outside,” he laughs as he pulls me to him, my jutting belly coming to rest against him. He draws me to him and I feel the unexpected hardness of his erection press against me. “And on top,” he smiles and bends forward until he nuzzles my ear, “If you grasp my meaning.”


“Randy again, Randall?” I giggle when he nips at my neck.


“I cannot remember you ever calling me Randall before.” Oh dear Gods, he has gotten very good at this. A slice of pain sears my throat when I feel the pressure of his lips sucking against the flesh. “I think I like it when you call me that,” he hums against my skin.


“Randall,” I whisper and in response Whizzy bites the cord of muscle and skin that connects my neck to my shoulder. He moans as I whisper his name once more and then quickly unbutton his dinner jacket before I run my hands up his chest to his shoulders and in one movement, slide the garment from him completely. The slender fingers of both his hands cup my chin, threading across my face, embracing the skin.


“It was the one thing I never asked or demanded of you,” he whispers as he gently kisses my bottom lip, “For you to ever call me Randall.” The grace of his palms brush the straps of my dress from my shoulders as the material gathers and cascades down the evident curves that now make up the landscape of my body. A final pool of liquid-like cloth collects on the swell of my stomach before spilling to the floor, leaving me bare but for my knickers and chemise. “No bra tonight, I see,” Whizzy murmurs softly.


“Built in to this,” I respond.


“I like this,” he marvels when he drags the backs of his fingers down my sides, over the silken cloth, “Very much.”


I reach up to the side of his face and become distracted by his blond hair, longer now, as if being with me has caused him to grow rebellious, daring. A long lock drapes across his eyes and I brush it back slowly. “You’re hair is getting long,” I smile.



“As is yours,” he drags his fingers over the hair that now rests mid-way down my back. He walks me to the edge of the lower, now-expanded bunk and urges me to sit. Then we watch each other. Watch each other silently, carefully noting every detail of the moment. My white gown…Whizzy slowly unbuttoning his shirt, never turning his sight from me

even when he unclasps his cufflinks. The sudden thought of the heady sight of him as he calmly undresses conquers me, possesses my reason as I realize how long this man has cared for me…maybe not utterly or completely, even though I know he would surely argue. Still, there is a sense of control to him, in the changes I see in him. He tells me he loves me and he says the words even now, but inside my heart I wonder…I wonder how much, to what point? This doubt and knowledge doesn’t take away from what he means to me, just defines it, and gives it limitations.


The crisp cotton of his dress shirt falls to the floor behind him and he moves until he stands directly in front of me, between my spread knees. His perceptive grin is self-assured and deliberate as it covers me in the pale darkness, a darkness that silhouettes him. He takes my hands in his and lets me direct my fingers to his stomach where I run the pads of my fingers barely across the surface of his skin, not tickling, yet still tantalizing.


With a predictable shift he pushes his hips forward and I allow his advance because I decide to undo his trousers, sliding them down his legs even though our bodies remain tightly pressed together. The rhythmic swaying of the moving train is at once hypnotic and soothing and the repeating pulse as we travel through the night forces my breath to quicken. He crawls over me, pulling the linen down before he lies back to settle against the mattress, his head closest to the window with its shadows and flashes. I can see his eyes. I can see the dark blue staring back at me.


I wish that things could have been different for the two of us. I wish that he and I could have been given the chance to love each other uncontrollably and without the shadow of a past haunting our thoughts. But I will be thankful for what I have with him now…try not to dwell on what might have been.


“I love you, Whizzy,” I tell him as I straddle him. His lips part when I roll my hips into his hardness. Somewhere along the way I lost my knickers and he lost his pants too, but that is just as well. It is a wonderful feeling of anticipation whenever we make love like this, with me one top, the feeling of his erection fighting to separate my folds and find purchase in my womb. We’ve gotten so good at this now that we don’t need to use our hands to guide him to the target, he makes his mark without assistance. There’s such a sweet comfort in knowing that much about one’s partner. I love to hear the gasp that escapes him when he enters me, how it is answered by my own intake of breath when the tip of his cock slams up against the summit inside of me. Then we freeze, this time for a very long moment with me looking down at him as my hands come to rest on his shoulders. His hands find my hips and his fingers lace around what is barely left of my waist. Stormy eyes gaze up at me, hypnotizing me in conjunction with the softly glowing flashes of light bursting through the massive window in our cabin, painting me with explosions of pale colors.


“Merlin, you are beautiful,” he whispers hungrily as his jaw goes slack.


With a trembling giggle I scarcely lean forward before my hair tumbles over my shoulders and the ends fall and settle onto Whizzy’s chest. After an unhurried stretch and a fluttering sigh I finally focus on the man below me, his tussled hair, his intense gaze. The connection between us incredibly fragile, yet steady, his hold on me constant although so very tenuous.


“I love you, Whiz,” I whisper down to him. He shifts his legs and bends his knees, which pushes me forward, up and into him, and his fingertips barely touch each other at the base of my spine. “I like being face-to-face with you, but it’s becoming more difficult to do that now.”


He answers me with a throaty chuckle and I bend forward until my hair curtains around his face. “Boo,” I laugh softly down to him and he answers with a brilliant and mischievous smile. Then his hand reaches for the nape of my neck to guide me closer to him until our lips touch. I love his soft lips. He knows exactly how to brush his lips across mine, the just-right way that makes me tingle. His warm wet tongue painting my mouth along the curves and corners.


“You know what?” I ask when we part. Whizzy raises an eyebrow in playfulness, but he doesn’t say anything. “You don’t talk much during sex,” I respond. One corner of his mouth curves up in silent reaction and he slowly thrusts into me. I’m sure I must look a fool but find that I really don’t care when I arch up and gasp… just before I bump the side of my head against the bottom of the top bunk that is closed above us. Whizzy is instantly in a sitting position with one of his hands cradling my head.


“Dear Merlin!” he stammers, “Are you hurt?” His expression of shock and concern catches me off-guard, makes me laugh suddenly. “Have you knocked yourself senseless, Dorrie?” his seriousness causes me to giggle hysterically. “Dorrie, love?” He’s so earnest, and cute. I wrap my arms around his neck and rest my head on his neck.


“Don’t you know by now I’m impervious to these kinds of little bumps and falls,” I snort into the skin of his neck. “Besides,” I stop to drag my tongue across the sensitive flesh, “I got you to talk.” Whizzy pulls back and looks at me suspiciously as he bears an open-mouthed smile before he recognizes he has been topped. Then he purposefully closes his mouth and shakes his head slowly. “Okay,” I admit, “If you’re going to play like that….” I can still roll my hips even if my waistline is practically non-existent…and he gasps in reply. “Gotcha,” I whisper and he answers me with a laugh and a growling surge of his hips.

Orient Express Part 1 [July 09, 2006 @ 10:43am]
[ mood | calm ]

Bustling. The corridor of the train is bustling. I feel like my huge abdomen completely blocks the passage so that no one can pass by me as Whizzy and I make our way to our compartment suite. His hand rests on the small of my back as we follow the cabin steward to our quarters. Whizzy and I decided to travel by train to Rome, a journey which will take the better part of four days aboard the Venice Simplon Orient Express. Yes, it was a mutual agreement for us to travel by train, as magical means of travel are out of the question because I am now very nearly six months pregnant. Magical travel may be fast and efficient, but it is usually quite violent as well. A Portkey was out of the question, as were Apparation and the Floo Network. Paddy, my Healer, and one of Whizzy's best friends, advised against magical travel. So a Muggle train was the choice.

But the Orient Express was Whizzy's idea, and a wonderful surprise it was too. It's even fancier than the Hogwarts Express and I run my hand along the mahogany paneling as we follow the cabin steward, who wears an elaborate uniform. The dark blue cloth of his long coat is trimmed in gold piping and it makes me think of the colors of Ravenclaw House. As we reach the cabin the sensation of Whizzy's long fingers curling around what was once my tiny waist pulls me back into the moment. Then he presses a tip into the palm of the steward's hand and the young man closes the compartment behind us.

The quarters are cramped, but I think that's only because I am now the size of a dairy cow. "You really shouldn't have gone to so much trouble, Whizzy," I say as I stand in front of the large windows at the end of our compartment.

"Things of this nature are never trouble for me," he replies with a smug smile, "You should know that by now, love." He takes the shawl from my shoulders and hangs it on a hook by the door. I take a deep breath and sit near the window on the sofa-sized settee that is built into the wall on one side of our little cabin. Passengers and well-wishers kiss and hug goodbye on the platform on the other side of the glass as the train whistle blows sadly. I feel the indention of Whizzy's body as he settles next to me on the banquette sofa.

"I guess there's a part of me that will never get used to the extravagance that comes with you," I smile as I lean into his warm body. "I would have been perfectly happy with a Eurail train." When I finish speaking Whizzy raises his eyebrows in disbelief and disgust at my statement.

"Surely you jest," he chides softly. "All those crowds scrambling for jam-packed compartments. Traveling and sleeping next to total strangers. I think not," he comments as he watches an elderly couple board the Venice Simplon.

"Sometimes," I whisper, "It's the crowds and the strangers who make the journey all the better. More interesting. Where's your sense of adventure?" I playfully scold in return.

"Beaten into submission by my desire for comfort and my sense of good taste," he chuckles. The train whistle cries its lonely plea for all to board and is answered in return by the stewards as they call out to the remaining passengers. As if sensing my sudden solitude, Whizzy snakes his hand around my back and leans in to me, nodding to the view of the platform as steam begins to thicken the air. With the first lurch of forward motion he guides me to lean deeper against him.

"It's not your fault, sweetie," I whisper to him as we still gaze out of the windows, "It's just that sometimes the lushness of life with you, it overwhelms me. I'm just a simple half-blood girl from London." When I turn to him he wears an expression of slight hurt and confusion. "Oh love, I'm sorry," I say as I take his hand and weave my fingers with his. He smiles weakly, apologetically.

"I am the one who should apologize," he replies seriously, "Sometimes I do not take the time to stop and think that you may not be accustomed to the lifestyle in which I was raised." He becomes silent as light and shadows flicker and burst through our compartment as the train gains speed, pulling away from the station. "I get caught up in the thought of spoiling you," he releases my hand and covers my belly with his palm, "Of spoiling him."

"Of spoiling her, you mean?"

I feel his lips brush mine as the train moves into the dark seclusion of a tunnel.

Trading Bit [July 04, 2006 @ 7:14pm]
[ mood | gloomy ]

My time with Little Bit has come to a close. Oh, it was quite a task, convincing Whizzy, that indeed, her existence does hold worth and value. She may not be wrapped up in a neat package, but Bit is important, she makes me happy, even though she sheds, smells, drools, chews Whizzy’s shoes, destroys furniture and architectural embellishments, and relieves herself in high traffic areas that are traversed in the middle of the night in the dark when an unsuspecting person is in search of a drink of water…poor Whizzy. I know it has been a very difficult adjustment for him, but he has been a good sport. He hasn’t complained very much since the incident with his shoes. Toward the end of Bit’s time with us I even caught Whizzy sneaking table scraps to her and feeding her snacks when he cooked. I used to assume he was not as adaptable as he has turned out to be. I guess I really don’t have to worry about his ability to adjust once the baby arrives. I underestimated him.

So now I walk next to Bit as we approach the park where earlier today, at work, Charlie and I agreed to exchange her. I have to admit that I am taking my time, finding shop windows to stop by and peer into at the displays. Bit ambles along beside me with the lonely left mate to Whizzy’s brown Salvatore Ferragamo ‘Nostro’ Oxfords hanging from her mouth like a baby’s security blanket. Expensive chew toy…I nearly fainted in surprise when Whizzy handed it to her. His favorites, they were. That one pair of shoes cost more than my entire summer wardrobe. With his obsession for fashion, if I didn’t know he liked women I would think that Whizzy was queer. But yes, he does like women.

With a few more steps, the park bench where Charlie and I agreed to meet comes into view. And there is Charlie, alone on that bench, his elbows on his knees, his hands steepled beneath his chin…obviously in deep thought over something. I hesitate because I’m torn between not wanting to disturb him and just turning around and running away with Little Bit in tow. It feels like a hundred years have passed since Charlie and I were lovers. Perhaps it was a dream. And as I stand here and watch him I can’t help but feel that this is wrong, us being apart. This life was meant to be spent with him, not Whizzy. Whizzy and I have been together for thousands of years and hundreds of lifetimes. We’ve been together forever and for some selfish and terrified reason we can’t bring ourselves to let go of each other. I am Whizzy’s addiction and he is mine; we weaken each other’s resolve. When we are a couple we find it hard to stand alone; we are stronger together, completely dependent upon each other.

When Charlie and I were together it was not so. I could stand on my own two feet. He was his own person. Separate entities not losing the characteristics and qualities that defined our individual selves yet complimentary to and supportive of each other.

For a fleeting moment I wish that I was carrying Charlie’s baby.

Then he turns and our eyes meet. I feel the painful slap of Little Bit’s tail as it rhythmically assaults the back of my leg. Charlie smiles and I realize that I must have been smiling all along, while I was watching him. He respectfully stands and shoves his hands into his jean pockets. I let go of Bit’s lease, “Go on girl; go see your da.” And Bit is gone, bounding across the grass of the short distance between Charlie and me. My laughter cannot be contained when she reaches him and hoists her upper body into a near standing position where her front paws land at his upper arms. She is a beast…and she’s only nine months old. In another six months she’ll be just as tall as Charlie when she stands on her hindquarters. Gargantuan, but I know Charlie wouldn’t have it any other way. His dog must be larger than life, larger than allowed, Herculean. As I watch their joyous reunion I realize that Charlie Weasley is larger than life…and that’s why I love him the way I do, the way I always will.

He’s going to make a wonderful father.

“Hallo Tonks,” he laughs as he rubs Bit’s scruff.

“Wotcher Charlie, how’ve you been?” I ask.

“Good, good, but missing my little girl, you know,” he says as he fawns over the giant puppy. “And you? How’s, er, you know, the baby?”

“Growing by leaps and bounds, actually,” I reply, placing both hands on the swell of my belly. “No more flat tummy for me.”

“But you look really good, Tonks,” he looks down at my hands as they cover my stomach. His eyes pause at my mid-section and I wonder what it is that he may be thinking.

“Would you like to?” I ask with a goofy grin.

“What?” His eyes finally look up at mine.

“You know, have a feel?”

“You sure?” he glances at me sideways.

“Of course you great git,” I reproach as I reach out to take his hand and flatten his palm to my belly. “It’s moving all the time now, so much it feels like I have butterflies flapping their wings just below the surface of my skin, like little twitches, and sometimes kicks and punches.” Charlie’s fingers are spread out, my belly button at the center of his palm.

“Wow, you’re changing so much,” he muses.

“Yeah, and without morphing this time,” I ponder as Charlie pulls his hand away slowly with a chuckle. “Boy or girl?”

“What?” He’s confused.

“Are the two of you having a boy or girl?” I ask.

“Oh! A boy,” he musters. “How about you two?”

“Don’t know; don’t want to know until the birth,” I ponder. “But to tell you the truth, I think Whizzy wants a boy. The next Randall T. Worthington, you know?” I toe the ground and Bit whimpers.

“What do you want to have?” I knew he’d ask me that.

“Oh, it doesn’t really matter to me,” I reply. Charlie ducks his head to catch my eye and I look back up to him.

“Come on, Tonks,” he prods, “You know I know you better than that.” He smiles at me and I can’t help but smile in return. I laugh and roll my eyes.

“I think it might be nice to have a little girl, actually,” I say shyly, “To give Bit here a little sister.”

“You know, I think I might like having a girl one day too,” he says. “Like when I was a boy, when Ginny was born. Tell you what, baby girls change your life; Ginny was a hoot.”

“I can see you with a little girl,” I tell him as I watch him bend down to take Bit’s leash and his hand slides down her massive back. “You’re good with girls.” Charlie sarcastically raises his eyebrows in question at my comment. “You know what I mean,” I laugh. And then an awkward silence begins.

“Um, I, er, better be going,” Charlie stammers.

“Yeah, me too.”

“I’ll see you at work then?” he prepares Little Bit for departure. I stoop to pet her one last time. I nod my reply and then he is gone.

My walk back home is much shorter and lonelier than my walk to the park…

Tea With Cho [June 08, 2006 @ 10:24am]
[ mood | contemplative ]

“Get out!” I laugh, “You have got to be joking!”

“Sh, sh, sh, sh,” Cho giggles as she waves her hand for me to lower my voice. A casual glance around lets her know that even though a couple of the Aurors in the break room have stopped to give us a quick look, no one’s attention lingers. So she leans over the table between us. “No, I am most certainly not joking. I was hanging over the edge of our kitchen table backwards with George’s,” she pauses and rolls her eyes, “His, well, you-know-what, in my mouth. I thought for a second he was going to drop me on my head.” It’s hard for the two of us to contain our amused squeals.

“How did you keep yourself from choking? I mean, I’ve heard the rumors about how blessed the Weasley Twins are in the man meat department,” I remark as Cho fights to refrain from spewing her tea on me from her side of the table. “Merlin,” I say after a moment of thought, “If I did something like that to Whizzy he’d pass out.” Cho nods cynically, one of her eyebrows crooked high up on her forehead. “No fair, no fair!” I complain, “You know Whiz has become much more sexually adventurous than he was when we were married. Yes!” I insist at her continued doubt, “When we were in Amsterdam he actually, well, he actually…”

“Out with it, Tonks,” she smiles and tugs at my shirt sleeve, “What have you been hiding from me about him? What did he do in Amsterdam?”

“Well, he participated in one of the sex shows in the Red Light District,” I stammer as Cho’s eyes widen to the point that she looks not Chinese at all, “And a few days later he actually gave me a rim job.”

“No way!”

“Yes, way!”

“Whizzy Worthington gave you a rim job?” she asks loudly and this time, many of my coworkers turn and look in our direction, a few even laugh to themselves. “He has come a long way since you were married. What is next for the two of you, public sex?”

“Oh no, that’s where Whizzy would draw the line,” I reply, “He won’t do it in public; he’s too shy for that.”

“But the Weasley boy’s are not,” she grins, “Oh yes, I know what you and a certain Weasley brother did in the alcove under the stairs the night of New Year’s at the Leaky Cauldron.”

“Well,” I say, flabbergasted that I can’t think of a comeback. “For Merlin’s sake, at least we hid ourselves; you and George did it sitting at your table in the back of the dining area!” And at that, Cho and I break into more laughter. It seems the harder we try to stay quiet, the louder our laughing becomes. That is, until Charlie Weasley actually walks into the break room. Cho and I instantly freeze and she has to physically cover her mouth to control herself. I desperately shake my head at her as I am caught between brutal embarrassment and the frantic need to maintain control of myself. “Stop it!” I grumble below my breath as I inhale to stop my own laughter.

“He is coming over here,” she whispers and I turn my head in a panic only to see Charlie leaving the room. When I turn back to Cho she’s laughing hysterically at me. “Made you look! Made you look!”

“You know, Cho,” I scold her, “You were once a dignified Ravenclaw. Look at what that damn Gryffindor fiancé of yours has done to you. You now have the sense of humor of a twelve-year-old boy.” It does feel good to laugh, though.

“I still made you look,” she shakes her finger at me in triumph as I stick my tongue out at her. “Oh boy, harpy alert! Harpy alert!” Cho chimes as she looks over my shoulder and crosses her eyes. When I turn around to see what she’s making such a fuss about, in walks Aveline. I turn quickly and playfully slap Cho’s arm. She grabs my hand and we have an impromptu finger-wrestling match.

I keep my back toward Aveline, not wanting her to see my face, and after a few moments, I find that I am no longer laughing, in fact, I’m not even smiling. Cho looks over my shoulder after a few more silent moments.

“It is all right now,” she squeezes my hand, “She has gone.”

“Sorry about that,” I remark. “Sometimes, it’s just so weird being here. Being around them, knowing…”

“Yeah, I know,” she squeezes my hand again. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I say absently.

“No,” she reminds me, “Really, I mean it. Are you okay?” I finally look up at her dark almond eyes and find worry and concern waiting there.

“Most of the time I am,” I begin, “There’s just an awkwardness to everything. That’s all.” She nods as I continue to speak. “I mean, it’s probably no less strange for the two of them knowing I’m right here and they have to be around me all the time too.” Cho nods. “And then there’s all the baggage with the four of us. Aveline and I weren’t on good terms to begin with, but Charlie and me…it just seems like such a waste, our relationship and all. Like it wasn’t supposed to be, or something like that…and that stings a bit, you know, because I cared for him so much. I still do a great deal.”

“Loss,” Cho whispers to me. “The only things I have to compare are losing Mami and Baba. Well, that, and losing Cedric the way I did.” She thoughtfully sips her tea. “But for me, the blessing comes with absence. Mami and Baba are in China and Cedric, well Cedric was completely gone from me. But you have to see the two of them every day, and that must be difficult.”

“It must be hard for Charlie and Aveline too, seeing me, knowing about me and Whizzy,” I pause, “And the baby.” I look down and scratch my stomach and smile again. “When I think of this one, other problems and worries fall away. This is what’s most important now.” I fold my hands over my protruding stomach.

Doubt and Desire (NC-17) May 17th [June 04, 2006 @ 9:44pm]
[ mood | happy ]

“Sickle for your thoughts,” Whizzy whispers.

“What?” I ask absently as my eyes focus on him. He is reclining in our bed while reading the evening edition of the Daily Prophet. I’m lying on my left side, facing him, staring at the dark paisley pattern of his silk dressing gown. His request interrupts my contemplation.

“You seem, distant, preoccupied,” he replies as he doubles the paper and places it on the nightstand before he folds his hands across his lap. He crosses one of his extended legs over the other while waiting for my reply. “You have something on your mind, Dorrie.”

“Oh,” I respond and finally look up at him from my lounging position. He’s right, I do have something on my mind, but I’m not certain I can talk to him about it. “It’s nothing, really, just feeling a little sad, I suppose.”

“About what?” he asks with a tone of concern, a tone that makes me wonder if I should say something or opt to remain silent. “You can tell me anything, Dorrie. I promise you that I will understand.” My head rests on my curled up arms and I’m sure I look very much like a child looking up at him from my pillow.

“Are you sure I can tell you anything and that you would understand and not be hurt or angry?” I ask skeptically. He moves until he is laying beside me, facing me, our eyes even.

“I promise you I will understand, even if it does hurt.” His eyes look cloudy in the candlelight of our bedroom. “Anything,” he whispers as he brushes back my hair from my face. I take a deep, hesitant breath before I say what I’m thinking.

“I’m thinking about Charlie and Aveline.” Whizzy’s jaw clenches slightly when I say their names and I close my eyes in regret.

“No,” he solicits as he gently grabs my arm, “We have to discuss these sorts of things; they are inevitable.” His hand slides up and down my arm, reassuring me. “Go on,” he beckons.

“It’s just that, that, we don’t ever talk about our feelings for them,” I waver, “And I’m afraid that all the hurt we’ve been avoiding, the hurt concerning them, that it’s going to build up and come between us.” I motion back and forth between us when I finish. Then I’m quiet, thoughtful…wondering if I should say anything more right now. So much has happened in the past six months and, and, and… “Whizzy, so much has happened since Christmas, so much has changed for us and it’s like we’re all going on about our daily lives pretending nothing is wrong at all, that nothing in the world is wrong. That very well may be true, that everything is fine and well, but if it’s not, then don’t you think we should talk about all the changes and work them out before the baby is born? Face our hurts and try to fix them before they become too big to deal with?”

Whizzy is silent. He watches me, studies me, softly pets my hair, and considers the curve of my jaw with his finger before he forces himself to look into my eyes. “You still love him, do you not?” he asks. My eyes well with tears.

“To be honest, I’m not sure how I feel about him,” I acknowledge. “Everything happened so quickly at the end.”

“The same way it ended swiftly between Aveline and me,” he remarks. “One moment we were together, happily in love. Then the next moment everything was changed.”

“Yes,” I whisper, “Everything was changed.”

“And we do not know clearly which feelings that we are feeling right now are real and which feelings are substitutions for what we once had with someone else,” he says calmly. I nod, a feeling of shame and dread invading my heart.

“Have you ever thought of these things before?” I ask.

“On occasion, yes, yes, I have,” he tells me as he subtly squeezes my upper arm. “But I will not lie to you. When I have thought about these things in the past, I have tried to force them from my mind.”

“Me too,” I proclaim. “That’s when I fill my mind with thoughts of you and the baby, and pretend that Charlie and Aveline don’t exist. Like I’m running away from it all.” I can feel Whizzy’s broad hand splay across the middle of my back, pulling me to him slightly. “Whizzy, do you think you and I got back together too soon after we left the two of them?”

He’s silent for a long time, thoughtful. I become very aware of the palm of his hand at my back, and the feel of his lips at my brow. “I do not know the answer to that, Dorrie,” he breathes into my skin. “I believe the question we should rather be asking ourselves is, did we become emotionally involved with Charlie and Aveline too soon after our separation last summer? Should you and I be together right now, or should we have become involved with the two of them as quickly as we did? I do not know the answer to any of these questions, darling. But if you wish, I could step back, give you space and freedom if you so desire.”

“No! No! Don’t say such things,” I panic and wend my arms about Whizzy’s neck. “Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me.”

“I promise, I promise,” he soothes me as he wraps his arms around my body, “I will not leave you.” He caresses the side of my face and stares into my eyes. “I love you,” he whispers.

“Hold me,” I gasp as I try to fight back tears of panic and fear, “Just hold me. Please don’t let me go.” I reach down and snatch at the tie of his dressing gown. As it falls open to reveal his silk pajama bottoms I pull at the waistband. Lifting my face I kiss him softly, slowly. “Make love to me, Whizzy, please.”

His lips feather across mine...Collapse )

Ginger and Snow (ginger_and_snow) [April 30, 2006 @ 5:26pm]
[ mood | excited ]

“Whizzy, my stomach is upset and I’m feeling lazy. Would you mind making me a cup of ginger tea?” I ask. “I’d love you forever, and besides, it’s too cold for me to get out of bed.”

“But darling, I assure you that I am just as cold as you,” he replies. “The weather turning cold so late in the spring season is a strange occurrence indeed. Did you hear that the weather wizards are predicting snow tonight?”

“You’re kidding!” I exclaim. “Snow? In the beginning of May? That’s unheard of!”

“I agree with you completely, love,” Whizzy says as he wraps his arms around me, trying to make me forget my craving for ginger tea.

“I haven’t forgotten about the ginger tea, Whizzy.”

“Oh, all right, Dorrie,” he says in mock irritation as he sits and finds his snow-colored dressing gown draped across the back of the ginger-colored settee next to our warm bed. “I shall make you your ginger tea, if only because I love you and because of the fact that you are carrying my child. You deserve the few extra minutes of rest before you go into work.” He bends forward to kiss me before he stands.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you tonight,” I wink and sigh. “After all, with the dreadful weather we should go to bed early. It’s not every year we’re lucky enough to have a snow storm in the lusty month of May…”

THIS JOURNAL HAS MOVED TO:

gns_tonks

and has become a part of the role-playing game called

Ginger and Snow

ginger_and_snow

The Long-Awaited Reunion [April 28, 2006 @ 10:04am]
What a sensational feeling, watching the corridors of the DMLE once again abuzz with normalcy. I’ve only been back from Amsterdam for a short time and already I am sick of hearing vigilante stories in the Auror break room. Well, vigilante talk and rumors are far better than the round of gossip that occurred immediately prior, about a month back…all the talk then was of pregnancies and swapped partners within DMLE management. The whispers usually died away once I entered the room. At least my ears aren’t burning today, thankfully.

“So when are you due, Auror Tonks?” Auror Kimmel asks me as I sip my ginger tea.

“The week of November 12th, Sandy,” I reply shyly. Sandy Kimmel, with her sandy-blond hair and perky tits smiles.

“You look great. You haven’t gained anything at all so far,” she reassures me, but her words only amplify my doubts. I’m going to be as big as a moose by the time of the delivery… I grin and think about the one time in my life I’ve ever seen a moose…, “…and of course one of the happiest times of your life,” Sandy continues, but I have completely missed everything she’s said. “Well, I have to run,” she pipes and then she’s gone, leaving me to finish my tea alone in the employee break room.

An odd tapping faintly echoes down one of the halls, sounding much like a bizarre and rhythmic dance. The tapping grows louder and is joined by an ongoing series of irregular thumps, followed by quick and heavy footsteps. “I’ll come by and check on you before lunch,” the gruff voice of Charlie Weasley sounds endearing as I realize he must be talking to Aveline, perhaps saying goodbye for the remainder of the morning. “Hey, you come BACK HERE NOW!” No more gentility in this sentence. “I SAID NOW!” I really don’t think he’s talking to Aveline anymore, at least I hope not.

Then more clicking and thumping heralds then entrance of a moose. But this moose spots me and bounds through the open break room doorway before she whines happily and dashes up to me.

“Little Bit! I said…oh, Tonks, hi,” Charlie stammers as he himself bounds into the room hot on Little Bit’s trail.

She’s absolutely huge now, barely a puppy anymore. My heart leaps into my throat as she skids to a stop right in front of me. Her dark, baggy eyes laugh and plead at once. Torn between wanting to sit and stare at her forever and the desire to bend forward and bury my face in her fur, I am trapped in her gaze. I finally lean over and as her long pink tongue makes a sweep across her maw I tell her, “Hey, baby girl.” My hand doesn’t surface from the swathe of her fur…it’s still so soft.

And then I remember…

I look over to him…he just stands there, watching us…

“She’s all grown up now,” I say as I knead a roll of loose flesh between my fingers, mudge pudge massaging her neck. “I miss her so much.” I quickly swipe the tear that just brimmed over the corner of my eye and sniff. “I’m sorry, it’s just that all the hormones, they make me cry at the drop of a pointed hat.” I laugh to try to alleviate my embarrassment. Charlie walks across the room and squats behind Little Bit, reaching out to stroke her fur. His eyes focus on her back and I can tell he’s concentrating really hard at not looking up at me. I’m actually relieved. I don’t think I could keep from bursting into tears if he looked into my eyes right now. Thoughts of home, our warm bed, and a tiny, scared and whimpering puppy between us settle into my mind. Her warmth connecting us forever, or so it seemed…

“Why don’t you take her home with you for a few days?” Charlie’s voice cracks and he clears his throat. “I’m sure she’d like being with you. She misses you too, you know.” Please, Charlie, please, don’t accidentally brush against my hand…my heart might break into a trillion pieces…

“I’d like that very much too,” I whisper and find myself smiling. He’s a good man, deep down inside he’s such a good man… I lean down to meet Bit’s nose with mine, the coldness a treat I didn’t realize I’d forgotten. At the periphery of my vision I see Charlie put his hands on his thighs and stand with a deep breath. He hesitates for the tiniest noticeable moment before he thrusts his hands into the front pockets of his trousers then turns and walks to the door. “Charlie…Charlie…wait,” I stutter.

He stops and does as I asked; he waits. I’m silent and I decide to look up, only to see the back of his warm ginger hair…it’s longer than it should be…he’s in need of a trim… He turns halfway and looks back at me, his warm blue eyes finally taking the chance to meet mine as he raises his eyebrows in question.

“Thank you,” I tell him.

He nods slowly before he turns and leaves the room.

Stretching... [April 23, 2006 @ 4:02pm]
The only clothes I have that fit me comfortably now are the clothes I bought in Amsterdam. I didn’t get maternity clothes; I just bought stuff a few sizes bigger than my normal size. I refuse to buy maternity robes just yet, I mean dear Merlin, I’m only two and a half months and I can’t zip and button my regular trousers without great discomfort. Anything with a draw-string or elastic is fine at the moment, although I find myself wanting to snip the threads that tighten the elastic of my slacks and knickers as it’s beginning to rub a bit. And what the hell is the darkening line between my belly-button and my, well my…

“I’m getting as fat as a Hippogriff,” I complain to Whizzy as I stand in front of the full-length mirror in the bedroom of our new home. I’m only in my underwear, a new, much larger bra and a pair of sexy knickers that are beginning to stretch out a bit. “I’m an Auror and I’m so out of shape already that I can’t keep up with what I used to do not three months ago.”

He doesn’t say anything at first, only sidles up behind me and slips his arms around my rapidly disappearing waistline. We look at each other in the mirror. “I think you are lovely,” he says quietly before grazing a kiss on my shoulder. “Simply exquisite.” I rub the skin of my stomach; his hands cover and follow mine.

“I’m starting to pooch already,” I complain. “I’ve hardly gained any weight but my body, it’s softening. Here,” I grab his hands and guide them to the space below my navel, “Feel the pooch?”

“Dorrie, you are not going to gain too much weight. You are active, which is good for you and the baby,” he whispers as his hands caress my stomach. “And your body, it is merely yielding to the needs of the child you are carrying.”

“You make it sound so noble,” I smile as I catch the sight of his eyes in our reflection, “When the bottom line is you knocked me up, Mr. Worthington. It’s scandalous.”

“And I imagine you and I will be the subject of the Daily Profit’s society page on a regular basis once you start showing and more people than immediate family and friends are informed of the situation,” he retorts with a smile.

“Are you worried?” I ask as I watch him, “About what other people will say.”

“I am more concerned about you and the baby,” he replies, “The two of you are all that really matter.” He pauses. “I want to take you shopping this week. I would like to buy more comfortable clothes for you. It will make you feel better. We can even start shopping for the baby if you like.”

“I’d like that very much,” I say. Whizzy and I stand together as I study my body some more. “I’m cramping a little bit, the muscles in my uterus are stretching.”

“Yielding,” he says warmly. “Do you know what I would like to do to you right now?” he asks and I shake my head with a smile. “Cocoa butter,” he whispers as he glides his hands from my abdomen up until they reach the underswell of my breasts.

“Don't move. I’ll go get the jar…”

Moonlight and Water (NC-17) [April 18, 2006 @ 4:02pm]
“Dorrie?” Whizzy’s thick, scratchy voice questions the darkness before he clears his throat. I feel the indention of his body on the mattress as he scoots over to where I am sitting at the bed’s edge, over by the window. There is a nip in the night air so his arms feel nice as they cozy around me from behind as he unfolds his lanky legs to flank me on either side. “Is something the matter?” He nestles his face alongside mine and gently rests his chin on my shoulder. I see his sparkling blue eyes follow my gaze as they look up and out of the large bedroom window of our canal boat home, one that we are finding a difficult time leaving as we have decided to stay in the cocoon that has been our time in Amsterdam for an additional few days.

“Just couldn’t sleep,” I whisper, looking up at the pale glowing moon and its stark white reflection across the surface of the water. “Didn’t want to disturb you.”

“Mmm-hmm,” he hums as he nuzzles his cheek against my ear. “The moon is getting full.” He looks up at what I have been watching since sleeplessness overtook me.

“Actually, it was full last Thursday night.”

“Oh, I forgot; do you still keep up with that after all this time?” he asks and I feel his hands slide up and down my arms as if he is trying to warm me.

“Old habits die hard,” I sigh as I stretch my neck to tempt Whizzy by revealing more of the skin of my throat to him, almost hoping he bites me. “But I forgot this month. Last Thursday night came and went without me giving it a second thought.” I feel the warmth of Whizzy’s breath envelope my flesh. “I can’t believe it slipped my mind this time. I always remember it, I mean, I always remember him, the night of the full moon.” I swallow back a sniffle as I turn and lay my legs across Whizzy’s lap, slipping my arms around him.

“I do not think he will hold it against you, after all,” Whizzy pets back my hair and kisses me, “You have a very good excuse for not remembering. You have other things on your mind now.” I feel the heat of the palm of his hand rest on my abdomen and he cuddles into my neck, his lips grazing the column of my neck. “Dorrie, you have no idea what you do to me,” he gasps against my skin as he pulls me against him gently.


His mouth descends onto mine...Collapse )

Puppy Love [April 11, 2006 @ 4:01pm]
Spring is in the air on this sunny April afternoon in Amsterdam. My table at the Café de Jaren is on the front patio next to a busy canal in the center of the city.





The cheerful sounds around me add to the ambiance of the restaurant and the warmth of the sun’s rays feel soft and gentle against my arms as I sip from a tall glass of ice water. A wooden boat moors at the dock that is not more than three meters from me as I wait for my lunch of cheese fondue to be served.

Whizzy plans on joining me soon. This morning when he and I parted he was off to finalize the contracts for Fred and George to secure a shop location in the heart of Magische Markt, the premiere Wizarding shopping district in the Netherlands. Situated on over a dozen barges floating on a tributary of the Amstel River, Magische Markt is safely tucked away from the prying eyes of Muggles and student tourists in warm and cold weather. In good weather the market unfolds into an open-air district permanently anchored at the secret Wizarding waterway. During the winter and poor weather (and after closing time) the shops and cafes close up inside reappearing walls that protect and shelter the best interests of the merchants.

The icy liquid soothes my parched throat. I just hope I don’t have to take another piss any time soon…I might miss Whizzy. I swear I have to pee all the damn time now…

A cold, wet nose nudges my arm, causing me to spill some of the water from my glass on the arm of my chair.

“Miss, I am so sorry,” the clipped accent of a young blond woman apologizes. “She is still so young, so much to learn, I am terribly sorry.” I look down at the canine owner of that cold, wet nose.





“Oh my goodness,” I choke as I look down into the eyes of the young Mastiff. “How old is she?” My hand runs along the great dog’s back and my heart clenches. “She’s absolutely beautiful.”

“Sit Baby, sit, good girl,” the woman rewards her dog before turning to me. “She is eleven months old.” I scratch Baby’s chin as her massive tail thumps against the cobblestones. Then just like that, the woman and Baby are gone and I am left drowning in my memories of Little Bit. Little Bit would be six months old soon, nearly full grown for a puppy. I’ll bet she doesn’t even look like a puppy anymore.

And I’ll bet she doesn’t even remember me anymore. Oh dear Merlin, I miss her so much… I feel the clawed hand of loss plunge into my chest to grab my heart as I watch Baby amble away from me. It hurts; my heart physically hurts. I know Aveline has replaced me as Bit’s mum. I know Aveline has replaced me…

But I just miss my Little Bit so much…

The tears are running down my face when I feel a pair of tender, soft smelling arms encased in fine Italian wool wrap around me from behind.

“Dorrie, Dorrie,” Whizzy begins with panic in his voice. “Dorrie darling, are you unwell, whatever is the matter, love?” He sits at the table with me and grabs my hands in his. “Dorrie?”

I look into his concerned face and I know my own has contorted in pain. Whizzy looks frightened.

“I MISS MY LITTLE BIT!” I bawl and I know the café patrons at the surrounding tables have been distracted by my emotional outburst. But I just don’t care. I suck in my breath as I sob violently. “I just miss my Little Bit so much!”

“A little bit of what, Dorrie, what is it that you miss?” he asks as he leans forward and wipes my cheeks with his bare hands.

“Not a little bit, I miss my Little Bit!” I bark at his confusion. “I MISS MY PUPPY DOG, LITTLE BIT!”

Whizzy sits back suddenly as if I have slapped his face. “Your dog?” he muses. “You miss your dog?” I blow my nose on my linen napkin and nod my head quickly as Whizzy chuckles at my discomfort. “You miss a dog?”

“Don’t act as if I’m stupid just because I miss a puppy dog!” I say loudly and Whizzy clutches my arm and looks around the terrace, shushing me. “Don’t SHUSH me just because you never had a dog in your entire life. I love Little Bit! And I’m missing her, her, hiccup, she’s growing up without me! I’m not her human mum anymore!” Whizzy pulls me to him and hugs me, comforts me, as my snotty nose runs onto the lapel of his fine suit. But he doesn’t pull away or attempt to clean himself off.

“Oh Merlin, darling, I had no idea!” Whizzy’s face is flushed with bewilderment. “Your puppy? Is it your dog, the one you cared for with Charlie, is that Little Bit?” I nod again at his question. “Well, darling, if it is a puppy you want, then it is a puppy you shall get. The most purebred dog of any breed your little heart desires…”

“NO!” I push away and a fresh deluge of tears overtakes me. “I don’t want just any puppy! I want my Little Bit!”

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m never like this. I just can’t stop crying…and I can’t stop thinking about Little Bit. Oh dear Merlin, I can’t stop crying! Whizzy searches my face for some type of answer. But money isn’t the answer this time.

“I am sorry, Dorrie,” he caresses my cheek. “I did not mean to suggest that your feelings for the puppy that you and Charlie cared for together could be so easily replaced.”

I calm down and wipe away the last of my tears. “I’m sorry, Whizzy. I don’t know what came over me.” I can feel his hand cover the back of my head as he kisses my lips and our foreheads touch.

“I love you, Dorrie,” he whispers. “When we return to England we shall make arrangements for Little Bit to spend some time with us in our new home. You said that Charlie was not adverse to the idea, did you not?” I nod. Great gods, I’m either crying hysterically and babbling or I’m nodding mutely. “Do you feel better now, darling? You frightened me for a moment.” He smiles, but a flood of relief supports his smile.

“I’m fine now,” I whisper before I stand hastily as another wave of discomfort washes over me. Whizzy looks puzzled again, very concerned.

“What is wrong, Dorrie?” he asks as he takes my hand.

“Um,” I stutter. There’s nothing for it but the truth, no matter how awkward that blatant truth is going to be for Whizzy… “Er, Whizzy? I have to go pee…”

Amsterdam [April 09, 2006 @ 4:00pm]
I have a great deal to be thankful for. Whizzy is one of those things or persons as the case may be. He is not a thing.

He always thinks of me first now, instead of thinking of himself. This is quite strange, taking into consideration how he once acted toward me. He’s there for me and thinks about me a great deal now.

He saved me from that wedding yesterday. I didn’t really want to go, I just felt obligated to go. I care for both Ron and Hermione and their friends and family members, it’s just that, well, that, I didn’t feel completely comfortable being there, or at the reception. So when Whizzy suggested he and I leave early for our trip to Amsterdam I jumped at the chance. Oh, I’m sure that one of the Weasleys or one of their friends may be very upset about my absence at the nuptials. Oh bother. I can’t worry about that. I made the best choice for me at the time and if others choose not to understand, well that’s their problem, not mine. If they cared a lick they would be concerned and at least try to understand.

Truth is I just didn’t have the strength to see Charlie with Aveline, so sue me.

But when Whizzy took my hand and lead me from that church…if felt so fantastic. And throughout the day it just kept getting better.

“Close your eyes, Dorrie. You must promise you will not look or it will completely ruin the surprise I have planned for you,” Whizzy whispers in my ear from behind as we stand on a street alongside the Amstel River. With my eyes squeezed shut, my attention is drawn to the voices speaking Dutch on the street behind us. Whizzy holds my arm and leads me across a very short wooden bridge before he stops. “Open your eyes now,” his deep voice breaks through the strange conversations.

And I open my eyes.

“Oh my goodness,” I laugh, “This is brilliant! Are we actually going to be staying the week here?”

'Of course, only the best for you, darling,' he replies.Collapse )

Telling Olive [April 05, 2006 @ 3:59pm]
The sight of the grand staircase leading up to the front door of Ollerton Estates has always taken my breath away. Now the steps literally take my breath away. I swear I’m not out of shape. On the contrary, I’m in excellent shape.

“Slowly, Dorrie, do not try to keep pace with your former abilities,” Whizzy tells me as he helps me up the stairs. “Do not push yourself, darling.”

He’s right; I have to stop trying to maintain the activity level of my non-pregnant self. So I slow my pace and from the corner of my eye I can see Whizzy smile and nod. His fingers curl slightly into my waist as I accept his doting nature. He opens the door for me and we find ourselves standing in the majestic entryway of Whizzy’s family home.

“Master Worthington, welcome, welcome home sir,” the deep yet squawky voice of Wadsworth, the head of the Worthington household’s house elves, stands before us. Wadsworth has the tiniest pointed ears I have ever seen on a house elf, and the baggiest, saggy-est eyes as well. He is the only house elf I have ever seen that sports a perpetual smile, the winning Worthington smile actually. And his eyebrows form two very pointed arches directly above his pupils. Being the principal Worthington House Elf, he is very well dressed, and sports Egyptian cotton robes made from discarded linen. They are, of course, dyed black, to add to the outward show of formality. Wadsworth’s slack eyes focus on me. “Greetings to you, past-Mistress-Worthington-now-Ms.-Tonks-again.” He tries to be official with me, but I know him better. Appearances can be deceiving.

“How is my mother, Wadsworth?” Whizzy asks quickly.

“Much, much better, Master Worthington. She awaits you in the conservatory.” With a controlled flourish, Wadsworth motions to the well-lit glass enclosure at the end of the atrium. Whizzy thanks the house elf and takes my hand to lead me across the Italian tile to where we see Olive sitting in a chaise, sipping tea in the diffused sunlight of the award-winning greenhouse. What Neville Longbottom wouldn’t do to get a crack at this place.

Then we stop in the over-sized glass doorway. Whizzy and I look out across the gentle rays and shadows as they dance over each green leaf, each brightly-colored flower, until our vision comes to rest on his mother. She looks so small, so frail, a much less imposing figure than the one who once badgered me for a grandchild. I squeeze Whizzy’s hand.

“Let me talk to her first?” I ask as I turn and look up into Whizzy’s deep blue eyes. “Something tells me I should be the one to tell her,” I implore him. “Trust me?”

He hesitates, wanting to tell me ‘no’. But then he stops and nods his consent.

“Wait here and watch,” I whisper as I pull him down toward me until his face meets mine. “You’ll know when to come over, luv.” With a kiss I am gone.

Olive is reading the society section of the Daily Prophet when I approach her. She looks up at me and her tired eyes peer over the rim of her oval-shaped reading glasses and offer me an indifferent smirk. “Hello, Nymphadora,” she greets me as she smoothes the small blanket over her legs. When I reach her I bend forward and embrace her gently then kiss her on each cheek. “Whatever brings you to Ollerton this fine day? Has Randall accompanied you or are you traveling alone?”

“Whizzy escorted me, Mrs. Worthington,” I reply, “I asked him to give me a moment alone with you.” I sit in the chaise across from her and worry at the seam of my trousers. “I need to talk to you about something.”

She spies me warily. “Call me Mrs. Olive, Nymphadora, like you did when you were married to my son,” she corrects me, even though I don’t remember calling her by that name all that often. “What is it that you need to tell me, child?” She removes her glasses, folds them, and places them at her breast. The long jeweled guard around her neck holds them to her like the pendant at the end of a long opal necklace. As a matter of fact, I think they are opals. “Nymphadora?” Her voice snatches me from my thoughts.

“Mrs. Worth, I mean, Mrs. Olive,” I begin, “I, I…I have some very good news to tell you. At least I hope you’ll think it’s good news.” I hesitate as I look down at the colorful tile floor of the greenhouse. “I don’t want to upset you in any way, but need to tell you something, something very good.”

“You have already said that, Nymphadora,” she retorts as she folds her hands in her lap with reluctant anticipation. I slowly look up at her face to find her eyes watching me like an owl.

“You see, Mrs. Olive,” I falter, “I want you to know right now that your son means the world to me. We’ve found a great deal of happiness in our reunion.” Her gaze becomes more concentrated as she listens to me. “Our becoming a couple again was very unexpected, and Whiz, I mean, Randall means so much to me. I love him very much.”

“That is extremely reassuring, Nymphadora, taking into consideration the two of you have purchased and moved into a home together,” Olive says directly. “Even though the two of you remain unmarried.”

There is an uncomfortable silence in the room and a blue and red bird flies through the sunlight to perch in a fruit tree just a few meters away. I clear my throat before I speak again.

“Yes, I know. We were planning to take things slowly this time,” I say. “But then something happened, something we didn’t plan on happening just yet. But Whizzy and I are joyful and thankful for this special something nonetheless.”

Her eyes narrow in thought. “What are you saying, Nymphadora?”

“Whizzy and I are going to have a baby in November,” I blurt.

Olive Worthington says absolutely nothing. Nothing at all. She only sits in front of me and stares blankly at me. I have no idea what she may be thinking, but I fear she may be on the verge of another heart attack. “Mrs. Worthington?” I ask in a panic as I reach over and take her hand, “Mrs. Worthington, are you all right?” I look to the door in a frantic search for Whizzy and see that he is approaching us, a look of concern on his patrician face. Olive’s hand twists in my grip and she seizes my own hand firmly and looks at me intensely. I couldn’t pull my hand from her grasp if I had to. Whizzy is suddenly standing behind her as he places his hands on each of her shoulders.

“Mother?” he queries. Olive’s free hand reaches to her shoulder to take Whizzy’s. “Mother, are you unwell?”

Watching Olive’s face for any sign of disappointment, I find that instead of dread, a diminutive smile waits upon her lips. “No, Randall, I am perfectly fine.” Her eyes never leave mine as she speaks to her son. “I have waited an extremely long time to hear the news of a grandchild in my future, although your timing and circumstances leave much to be desired,” she chokes back a sob and Whizzy is immediately sitting at her side.

“Mother?” he urges. She finally looks at Whizzy.

“I suppose that when a baby decides to come into the world there is nothing that parents can do to change its mind.” Olive reaches for her son and caresses the side of his face as she squeezes my hand once more. “With the two of you for a mother and father, I know the child will be beautiful,” she whispers and turns to me, “And gifted…and very, very loved.” I wrap my arms around my former mother in law and strangely enough, she does not stiffen or flinch. When I release her it is time for mother and son to embrace, a warm embrace, one that lacks the formality and decorum usually present.

“You are not disappointed in us?” Whizzy asks.

“No, no, darling,” Olive answers as she pats his leg. “How could I dare be disappointed in such a gift? I see what the two of you mean to one another, even if you are not married. You have a deep abiding friendship and respect for one another, and heed my words: that is a rare circumstance, within or without the holy bonds of matrimony.” She is quiet for a moment before she puts her glasses back on her face and speaks again, her blue owl-like eyes taking stock of Whizzy and I. “I am truly thankful that it is you, Nymphadora, and not that vile she-demon giving birth to the next Worthington heir.”

Telling Him [March 23, 2006 @ 3:57pm]
I stand in front of the open office door and stare. It’s not closed; it’s open like always. I hear the shuffle of papers and he clears his throat. I can’t see him and neither can he see me.

Gathering all the courage I can pitifully find, I raise my hand to the wood-paneled door and knock. That one moment between finally deciding to actually get his attention and the split second he looks up from his work, right before his brain has had the chance to comprehend my intrusion and he recognizes that it’s me…that moment in time is the worst to live through.

No it’s not…

The silence of him just sitting there behind his desk, staring blankly at me is.

“Wotcher, Charlie,” I croak and then clear my throat. “Um, er, I have a couple of things I kind of need to talk to you about.” More silence. Awkward silence as he just sits there and stares at me with a numb expression on his face. “Sorry,” I scratch the back of my head and hold the small stack of parchment more tightly to my chest, “Er, I can come back later, when it’s a better time for you.” I roll my eyes to the right and look at the wood grain on the door before I begin to turn and leave.

“No, no, Tonks?” he calls out and I pop my head back into his office. “Now would be a good time,” he stands quickly, uneasily, “Yes, yes, now would be all right.” I step inside his office and stand behind the empty chair that sits in front of his desk. He extends his hand in offering, gesturing to the chair, “Please, er, sit down.” And I do, sit down, that is. Deep breath. I try not to make direct eye contact for too long while neither of us says anything more.

“How’ve you been?” he blurts out before I can ask the same thing.

“Fine, fine,” I stutter, “Really, I’m fine. And you?”

“Good,” he stops and takes a quick look at the vacant doorway behind my head, “Yeah, good, really good.”

I clutch both my arms about the parchment I’m holding and I’m suddenly struck with how interesting the front edge of Charlie’s desk is. He clears his throat.

“Oh!” I squeak, “How’s Little Bit?” I finally look up into Charlie’s eyes and the numbness turns into the slightest hint of a smile. “I miss her so much,” I tell him.

“She’s doing brilliantly,” and he really does smile now. “She’s getting so big and I swear to Merlin, she thinks she’s a human being, with all the rights, but none of the responsibilities.” We have a quick chuckle.

“I hate that I’m missing her growing up,” I sigh, “She won’t be a puppy much longer. I’m sure she’s as big as a Hippogriff by now.”

“Almost, almost,” he chuckles, “She’s great. And she misses you too, you know.”

“She probably doesn’t remember me at all. It’s been so long.” Oh, that hurts my heart…

“Yes she does, I know she does,” he assures me. “I bet if I brought her in to work the two of you would pick up right where you left off.” He’s quiet again and he looks away from me as if he is thinking about something. “As a matter of fact, I could bring her in and let you take her home some weekends. You know, a little like shared custody?”

“I’d really like that,” I brighten, “And if you ever have the need for a sitter…I could do that for you too.”

“It’s a deal, then,” he says. Well that was one of the things I wanted to talk to him about… An anxious hush blooms between us again.

“Charlie?”

“Uh-huh?” he inquires with a nod and raised eyebrows. This is harder than I thought it would be…

“Yes, Tonks?” he asks again, “Is there something you need to tell me?” I look evenly into his eyes for a long time before I speak.

“I’m going to have a baby.” More silence…

His mouth drops open in surprise and delight as he stands quickly and rounds the desk, pulling me up and into his arms. I’m laughing, laughing, and so is he. “This is wonderful, wonderful,” he beams, “I’ve always wanted children! What are we going to name her? I just know it’s going to be a girl…”

“You’re going to have a baby?” his jaw clenches and he smiles tightly. “Wow, that’s great news. You and Whizzy are going to have a baby then, huh?”

“Yeah,” I admit, “Yeah, we are. I found out Tuesday night. You’re the first person I’ve told so far. I wanted to tell you myself before anyone else did.” I force a smile and lean forward. “You know before mum and dad.”

“Before Ted and Andromeda? Well that’s an honor.”

“Before Olive too,” I acknowledge.

And then the quiet game starts again.

“Tonks?” Charlie asks, “There’s something I have to tell you too.” Then there are those few seconds before Charlie speaks again, the very brief time that my mind has to snap into action to try to guess what he’s going to say to me. But the time I’ve been given is not long enough…

“Aveline is pregnant too,” he confesses.

Charlie’s face begins to fade and blur and then her dark raven hair comes into focus. It’s scattered out in a fan across the pillow beneath her head and the day’s light is fading fast. She smiles and laughs affectionately as Charlie covers her naked body with his own and pulls the blanket up and around them, enfolding her in a cocoon of warmth as he smoothly moves up and into her…

“Tonks?” Charlie comes back into view, “Tonks?” He looks a bit concerned as he leans forward.

“Oh, wow…,” I utter dumbly. “Whoa…Aveline is pregnant…wow.” And there you have a Ravenclaw reduced to the expressive ability of a bumbling Neanderthal.

“Yeah,” he says, “It was a surprise for the two of us too, at first, but we’re OK now.”

“I know what you mean,” I reply, “We were the same way.” I lean forward and stand. “Well, guess I’d better get going.”

“Ok,” he stands behind his desk as I turn and step toward the door. “Tonks?”

I stop in the doorway and turn around, “Yes, Charlie?”

“Congratulations,” his voice breaks, but is sincere. “You’re going to be a really great mum.” He hesitates, “The really brilliant kind of mum.”

I smile at him. “And you’re going to be the best dad ever. I hope you know that. The really cool and wicked kind.”

Charlie ducks his head in acknowledgement before I turn to go back to my office.

Whoa…

I shut my office door and let the tears finally fall…

Give You the World [March 20, 2006 @ 3:56pm]
Because I have been feeling completely out of sorts for a few weeks now, my Healer and old friend, Paddy Meager, has made arrangements for me to see him for a physical examination tomorrow in the evening so I won’t have to schedule one during work. With Whizzy exerting so much of his time and energy into the expansion of Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes it’s more convenient for me to go after work. Besides, Whizzy has been terribly worried to the point of doting over me recently, constantly hounding me to take some time off from work until I’m completely over whatever it is that is ailing me. But I can’t just do that if I want to be able to take a day or two off here and there when he travels for Fred and George’s company. Whizzy wants me to go to Amsterdam with him soon, says he is arranging a considerable treat to surprise me for this little trip. I cannot wait because Whizzy’s surprises are always brilliant and thoughtful. He makes me feel so special, so important…so loved and wanted. His generosity and caring are intoxicating and addictive. He is one of the most wonderful men I have ever known.

At least that’s what I keep telling myself over and over and over again. I have to remember that he can also be shallow, petty, demanding, pompous, selfish, cruel, and hateful. But he saves that kind of behavior for others, not for me. He only treats me with what he thinks is the utmost respect. Oh, since he and I separated last summer Whizzy has regarded me with a great deal more deference, thought, and concern than he did when we were married. Hands down, he neglected me and our marriage when we were still married but since our divorce I feel that our relationship and our friendship have become much stronger and more meaningful. It’s just strange that after all the mistakes he and I made, both together and apart, that we would end up with each other again.

Sometimes I’ll be sitting in his penthouse flat, well, he insists that it’s our penthouse flat…anyway, I’ll be sitting in the flat, looking out one of the many surrounding windows and gazing across the London skyline and I will think “If only Whizzy made this happen for us when we were married, moved us out of Ollerton, away from his mum, and in our own place, he and I might still be together, still married”. Right now it feels so very bizarre to be technically and legally divorced from him when we are at this moment living together like a newlywed couple in the throes of nuptial bliss. But we are divorced; and the marriage was annulled as well, so it is as if we were, in principle, never married at all. He did that for me; I don’t know why because I never asked him for more than a divorce, but in return he insisted on giving me enough money and a home in which to live comfortably for the rest of my life. And he made arrangements so we would be granted an annulment.

“Whizzy?” I turn toward him as we lounge side-by-side on the brown leather sofa. He looks up from the book he is reading. “Why did you arrange an annulment for us? I only asked for a divorce.”

He is quiet, thoughtful for a moment before he closes the tome in his hands and reaches over to brush an errant curl from my face. “Well, it was because I knew you were no longer in love with me. I wanted you to have a clean start with the rest of your life.”

“A life with Charlie,” I respond.

“Yes…a life with Charlie,” Whizzy hesitates, “I wanted you to be happy even though I lost you.”

“You didn’t lose me to Charlie. You know that, don’t you?” I ask. “I didn’t know that he was coming back to England at the time. I hope you believe me.” I look down and notice that our hands are clasped.

“I know,” he whispers, “I know. I did not lose you to Charlie Weasley. I lost you to my own selfishness and stupidity.”

“But now you’ve made up for it,” I sigh as he lifts my hand to his lips and reverently kisses its palm. My fingers slip from his face across his chin, and to the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Not quite yet,” he smiles, “But I am working on it.” He leans his head back against the sofa while still maintaining eye contact with me. “How are you feeling, darling?”

“Much better tonight,” I respond as I snug up against him.

“Now that mother is home at Ollerton and doing well I am glad that I shall be available to meet you for your appointment with Paddy tomorrow after you are finished with work,” he tells me as his free hand draws lazy circles on my upper thigh. “I am going because I do not want you to cancel this engagement just because you are feeling better at this moment. He still needs to examine you.” Whizzy raises his hand and runs it across my head gently. “I am anxious to find out why you are having trouble staying in the pink.” His smile is to cheer me; I know. I haven’t been able to morph at all in nearly a week, not even my hair color. That fact is starting to get to me.

“Thank you, Whizzy,” I nuzzle into his neck and catch the heady scent of his cologne. “Thank you for being there for me. I couldn’t have made it through the past few months without you.”

“Dorrie, I owe you my life. The least I can do now is give you the world.” He rubs his cheek against mine, his mouth stopping as I feel his breath at my ear. I lift myself up on my knees and the cushion of the sofa presses down below me as I hoist myself across to straddle his lap. His breathing quickens to a low moan and his blue eyes captivate as he gazes up to me.

“Thank you for loving me so much,” I whisper as I bend forward to place a kiss on his warm lips. “Whizzy,” I stop and softly speak his name, “Worthington.” I kiss him once more…

Awakenings (NC-17) [February 19, 2006 @ 12:49pm]
After I arrived in Dublin and went up to our suite, I was surprised to find Whizzy sitting alone. Since his break up with Aveline I have wondered when his own personal break down would come. He has always tried his best in life to remain stoic, unfeeling…and that was a serious problem when we were married-his controlled nature. The whole time we were together I felt as if one day, some time or another, Whizzy would lose restraint of himself and his emotions. Even though what happened yesterday is just a glitch compared to the emotional low points and outbursts I have encountered in myself, it is still serious for him, according to his standards. It is a big deal for him because he never wants anyone to perceive that he has weaknesses. I am honored to know that he thinks enough of me to let his guard down in front of me and let me see the scared little boy he hides inside. I love him for that, but those are words I just can’t bring myself to say just yet.

My eyes flutter open and I roll to the side, toward him, to watch him. His face is so peaceful, so serene. It’s as if in sleep no one hurts him, no one leaves or abandons him. No one betrays him or takes anything from him. No one, no one understands this man. No one in the world. Everyone thinks he’s a spoiled rotten boy who was given anything and everything he ever wanted. But they’re so wrong. He’s wonderful, wonderful and giving. He only strikes when he has been harmed or hurt. He only takes after he has requested consent. All he asks anyone in return is honesty, truthfulness. The only time he is ever deceptive is in matters of business or competition, never in friendship or when it comes to affairs of the heart.

His breathing is even, calm. His soft blond hair tousled to one side, the only time it will ever be out of place during his day. His pale brown eyelashes too long and beautiful to belong to a man. I know the dark blue eyes beneath those closed lids can gaze right through me, through anything I may try to hide from him…he knows my hurts, my joys, my secrets. He has always seen the good in me even when I couldn’t see it in myself, even when no one else would pay me mind or have the tiniest bit of faith in me. He was there, always there.

Last night we stayed to ourselves in our hotel room. We sat close to one another on the sofa in the suite’s lounge, talking of many things, but mostly about him. He needed it. He needed someone somewhere to focus on him the way he has always given to and focused upon the rest of his world and those he holds dear. I whispered to him and told him how wonderful he is, how loving, how giving, how faithful and true. I touched and caressed his body, giving to him what he has always given, but not always received in return. I gave to him tender soft smiles and kisses as I ran my fingers through his hair, telling him how amazing is. He laid on the sofa, his head in my lap, his eyes looking up to me as I listened intently to his stories, his words. We laughed together about things past and that which we hope for in the future, our future. For the first time since I ran to him all those weeks ago on that terrible night, it felt right. I felt that in his arms; and I knew that next to him is where I should be.

Today is a cold wet morning in Dublin...Collapse )

“I love you,” he whispers against my cheek once I fall to his body completely.

“I love you too, Whizzy,” I say and feel him tense against me once more, “I really do.”

His arms tighten around me as he whispers my name and kisses my cheek.

Three Choices [February 03, 2006 @ 12:48pm]
This has been a strange week, to say the least. Exactly one week ago, Charlie and I were still together. He and I haven’t spoken since last Saturday night, the night of our terrible argument. I catch myself staring off into the distance, or sometimes at a peculiar spot on the wall, just thinking, daydreaming, remembering, wondering. I haven’t seen Charlie at work this week. I’ve kept my office door closed as much as possible. Part of me wishes I didn’t have to face work and another part wants to be possibly more outgoing than I normally am. My quiet side has won out over the past few days. I don’t know if it’s because I want to avoid Charlie at all costs or what; I mean, what would happen if we did run into each other? We would surely swap niceties and nod to one another, but that would be formulaic in light of all we’ve meant to each other, what we mean to each other still. I’m sure. It would kill me to see him. My heart flutters and my nerves twist every time I arrive at the Ministry or simply have to walk the halls of the Auror Department. I have told no one. I can’t tell whether I am ignoring and avoiding having to face the truth of this situation or if recent developments with Whizzy are truly for the best. I am so confused.

On the one hand I love Charlie; I will always love Charlie Weasley. I have always loved Charlie Weasley. I have loved him since our days at Hogwarts. I made a mistake by ending our relationship when we were young. I can see that now, although at the time I really thought I was making the right decision. I knew Charlie didn’t really want to join the All-England Quidditch team. I didn’t blame him; the coach was a prick and not a very good person. Win at all costs, with or without honor. It wouldn’t have been right for Charlie to sacrifice his principles just for fame and fortune. Charlie never cared about fame, but the fortune part, that was another story. At the time we were about to finish up with our NEWTS; seventh year was drawing to a close. He would have married me; I know he would have. And he would have taken the position of Seeker for the team and been paid quite nicely for it. He would have done that for me. But I couldn’t let him. I couldn’t and I didn’t. I ended our relationship.

And Charlie went to Romania. About as far away from me as he could get and still be in Europe. But that was best too. When he discovered his interest, dare I say, passion, for dragons even I knew at the time that he had found his niche, the place where he truly belonged. With me entering the Auror Academy we could have carried on with a long distance relationship, seeing each other for holidays and odd weekends every now and then. I know we could have done that. I would have done that…and then eventually I would have made the adjustments and changes necessary to be with him in Romania. That’s what we had planned. It would have worked.

But when the All-England team came into the picture everything changed. All-England meant money, a lot more money for him. It meant he could stay home. But when Charlie visited the Wizard’s Dragon Complex in Romania during the spring of our seventh year, we all knew that he was meant to work with dragons. He was so happy and even though I knew it meant we would be far apart, we were close enough that we could survive being apart. I just didn’t know if we could have survived if Charlie gave up something he had become so excited about doing, only to do something that was against everything he believed in. I couldn’t do that to him. I couldn’t have lived with myself. We would have ended up hating each other.

But isn’t that what has happened anyway? Fat lot of good ending things way back when did us.

That’s it, Tonks, say what you have to say to make yourself feel better…

Then for over five years I did not become involved with anyone else. I didn’t want to, didn’t need to. I survived off of my memories of Charlie. I didn’t know at the time how he would carry on without me. There were so many times I thought about going to Romania, just showing up. I imagined the possibilities if I did. But I didn’t do that.

And then came Remus…

And then came Whizzy…

I didn’t forget about Charlie; I just moved on with my life.

I have never completely confided in Charlie my feelings for Remus Lupin. I suspect Charlie was more hurt by my relationship with Remus than he is willing to admit. I think he feels I betrayed him by falling in love with Remus. Maybe it would have been easier for Charlie to take if I had chosen some bloke that nobody knows instead of Remus Lupin. Everybody knew about me and Remus, even Charlie’s own family members. Charlie is the only one who didn’t know. I think that stung him when the truth was finally revealed.

I often wonder if marrying Whizzy was a wise decision. We were both in such vulnerable places in our lives at that time. I was still reeling from my failures with Remus and Whizzy was still suffering over the loss of his father. We needed each other so desperately. We had always been good friends but I never suspected he felt more for me than simple friendship. As Whizzy and I grew closer and our friendship began anew it felt so good to be with him. It felt right. Doubts didn’t linger in the back of my mind when I thought of him. His feelings for me were bold and definite. Our relationship held a stability and security that I hadn’t felt since Charlie Weasley held me in his arms all those years before. With Whizzy I felt protected in a way I never felt with Remus.

I wasn’t afraid of Remus, no, not at all. I just think I always knew in the back of my mind that he would drift away from me. It was like I never really had him in the first place; he was never really mine. He always kept a part of himself hidden from me and it was maddening. It made me desperate for him in a way. Never at any other time in my life have I ever been as reckless or as rash as I was when I was around Remus. When I was completely in love with him. Strange, because he is such a calm and logical person, always in control of his emotions and himself…well at least most of the time…

As different from each other as Remus and I are in character and personality, Whizzy and I are the same. Boisterous and outgoing. Gregarious and sociable. Only where Remus and I would clash over our differences, Whizzy and I would find ourselves at odds because of our similarities…each of us wanting to be the center of attention, each of us wanting the spotlight. I just finally couldn’t take not being the center of Whizzy’s love and attention. Whizzy paid more attention to his company and himself when we were still married, whereas Remus was always focused on carrying on with Dumbledore’s work. Between the ‘cause’ and that god-damn lycanthropy, he made a pretty good martyr, one who had no room in his life for a love interest, no matter how much that love interest continually insisted otherwise. Some of the arguments Remus and I had would make what happened between me and Charlie last week look like a playground scuffle.

Remus and I were just too different.

Whizzy and I were too much alike.

Charlie and I were just right…

This one was too hot. And this one was too cold. But this one was just right.

I need to talk to Whizzy. We have to make sure we are making the right choice. It was easier to talk to him when we were just friends.

Sex complicates things…muchly.

As You Wish... [January 29, 2006 @ 12:47pm]
The morning is almost over and I’m still basking in the afterglow of being with…”

Back up, wait a second…that was yesterday morning…

I find that this morning I am lying on my back, and when I open my eyes, I am gazing up at a ceiling not of dark wooden beams but of intricate crown-molding and fine tiling. The yielding cotton-knit sheets on the bed I share shared with Charlie no longer hug me. Instead, soft silkiness of cool cotton brushes against my skin. Instead of passionate burgundy, these sheets cover me in creamy gold. And I’m not on the right side of the bed, but on the left side, which is the wrong side, because Charlie sleeps on the left side, not me. I sleep on the right side of the bed…

“Good morning, Dorrie.” He’s lying on his side, his head propped on his hand, his hair not very tousled at all considering…

“Hallo, Whizzy,” my voice comes out more hoarse and unsure than I intend it to be. Whizzy raises his eyebrows and inhales deeply.

“I suppose I should have expected you to react less than delighted to see me like this so early in the morning,” he begins, his expression betraying ill-concealed disappointment. I quickly turn to him before he can roll away and my hand instantly grabs his hip, stilling him.

“No!” now my voice is much louder and more forceful than I intend. “I mean,” I begin before I lean over and kiss his lips softly, reveling in their smooth feel as I dawdle kisses across them. “Good morning, Whizzy.” I lower my eyes to the golden sheets below his body. “I don’t know how to thank you for being there for me, what I mean to say is, it means so much to me that you were there for me, oh, hell, I don’t know how to say the right words.” I duck my head, deciding to shut up before I say something even more wrong.

“I understand what it is you are trying to say,” Whizzy lifts my chin with nimble fingers, “You do not have to elaborate.” He wisps his thumb under and around my chin, a gesture of knowing. I slide my arm around his narrow waist, burrowing up into him.

“Please, just hold me,” I whisper. “I’m all jumbled inside. I don’t know what comes next for me now.”

“What do you mean?” he queries, a hint of concern in his voice.

“I don’t know where to go from here. I don’t know what to do now.”

“Then stay here with me until you decide.” He pulls back and catches my eyes. “You can stay as long as you need, as long as you like. You should not be alone right now and I am more than happy to have you here with me.”

I glance at him with worry. I’m so confused about everything right now but it feels so good to be here with him. “I have extra bedrooms, if that is what concerns you.” He pets the side of my hair, an action that makes me feel warm and reassured. “What happened last night need not happen again if it is not what you want. You mean too much to me…so I will not pressure you in any way whatsoever. How do you feel about that?”

I start to grow misty-eyed. He really does care for me, care about me. I don’t know where I’d be right now without him, probably dead of a broken heart many times over. I nod my head. “I like being with you this way, Whizzy. You feel wonderful. I want to be near you, whether or not we have, well, we have, well, you know.” I’m silly and shy around him in a way I’m not when I was around Charlie. I decide to lean over and kiss him soundly, deeply, wholly, rolling my tongue slowly across his teeth as he returns my ministrations. When I pull back he looks at me quizzically.

“Why did you do that?” he asks.

“That’s for being you. For saving me,” I reply.

“At your service, my lady.” His response sends chills through me, the warm kind. His roguish grin and meaningful look make me smile widely as I lay back and he follows my body. “But Dorrie, I would not want you to feel compelled to be with me in this manner or to feel obligated to me in any way. I could not live knowing that you were not sure of me, of this.” At his words, he sweeps a hand down the length of my torso, above the sheet.

When our eyes meet again I am filled with faith. “I need you, Whizzy. I want to be with you.”

“As you wish,” he whispers before he covers my body with his own…

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