|elfflame (elfflame) wrote in bonking_tonks,|
@ 2008-01-08 18:06:00
|Entry tags:||fic, lucius/tonks|
Fic: Unworthy - Lucius/Tonks - R
Prompt (the full prompt): writing prompt #9 - "Don't be ashamed to say he hurt you "
Word Count: 2028
Warnings (if any): pseudo-incestual (uncle/niece, but not blood-relations), semi-AU
Disclaimer: The characters are not mine, the belong to JK Rowling and others. I’m only playing with them, and expect no money. Please don’t sue.
Author/Artist's notes: I love this pairing, don’t ask me why. I just do. So I had to when I had the chance. Big thanks to ceria for the betaing help.
Tonks knew this wasn’t supposed to be comfortable. She was supposed to hate Lucius Malfoy. Hate his smug assuredness, and the way he assumed she would cave to his every whim. What was worse was that she did. Every touch of his hands made her shiver and moan, even as she tried to remind herself who he was and what he truly thought of her. Never mind that she could feel his fingers and lips all over her even days after, even that first time.
It didn’t help at all that he seemed almost sympathetic each time they saw one another—sympathetic for him, at least. Asking after her mother wasn’t a terrific surprise, despite the fact that she’d been disowned by the Black family decades before because of her marriage to Tonks’s father. Asking after her son was a larger shock; her own birth was bad enough, but Teddy’s father had been a well-known werewolf.
But the thing that made it worse was him asking when she would be going back to her duties, as though he didn’t know that she was on permanent leave until Kingsley saw fit to lift her suspension for unnecessarily risking her life in the final battle, and also for the fit she’d had in St Mungos at learning Remus had not survived. “Grief leave,” Shacklebolt had told her at the time. “Be with your mother and son. Grieve. Remember him. You’ve been through too much in far too short a time. You need the time, Tonks. Consider it an order.”
The problem was, she couldn’t look at her mother without seeing her failure to protect her family, and she couldn’t see her son without remembering the fact that Remus’s doubts about marrying her had never fully faded. So she spent as much of her time out as she could. Which meant running into Lucius. More even than she knew was likely in their world. It almost seemed like he was seeking her out. What she couldn’t understand was why.
When she’d first started running into him, she’d thought it was a fluke. That Lucius had simply needed time away from the finer things in life—or something like that. Because why else would Lucius Malfoy be found in a low-rent pub like the Hogshead? And why the hell would he sit by her, anyway? The thought that he might find her the most harmless occupant in the place crossed her mind at the time, and she’d scowled, and begun sniping at him, his only response pointed questions about her life.
The second time, they’d done more than snipe at each other, though. Kissing him wasn’t something Tonks would have ever considered had she been in her right mind. She was sure of that. She had always assumed that Lucius was a cold fish. And he was far too calculating. She hated that type. But even knowing it, there was just something that drew her to him. The smirk that dared her to take what she swore she didn’t want, perhaps. Or the glint in his eye when she pulled away from his kiss.
She’d fled of course. And the next time he’d seen her, when she’d been window-shopping in Diagon Alley to pass some time, he’d taunted her covertly about it. Of course, Lucius wouldn’t come directly out and mention the lust that had sprung up between them that day in the Hogshead. Not in public. But his words stripped her bare. She’d had to react, of course. And had found herself pressed against a wall in a dank alley.
“You’re lucky I don’t rut in public like some animal, Nymphadora,” he’d purred. “Perhaps he had you used to that sort of thing?”
“Don’t you talk about him that way,” she’d snarled back, trying her best to get free. Not an easy task, to say the least. Who knew the man had muscles under all the velvet and silk he wore? “He was a far better man than you will ever be.”
He’d let her go then, but the smirk didn’t falter in the least. Rather, he’d raised a brow, then nodded to her as though they’d been speaking of nothing more serious than the weather, and walked away, moving back down the street without looking back.
In the following days, her mental retorts to the response he’d not given to her had grown sharper and more pressing until finally, she was the one to seek him out. Not at the Manor. She’d never been welcome there, and she had no intention of seeing him on his home ground. Or running into her aunt. No. She waited until she saw him at the Leaky Cauldron, then followed him to the private room he procured there for whatever reason—likely he didn’t want to eat with the great unwashed. Tonks snorted at that, realizing it was probably the truth, then slipped in behind him, her Disillusionment spell still in place. She waited for Tom to close the door behind him before she pointed her wand at Lucius, only to find it being pulled from her hands by a summoning spell.
“However did you manage to pass Auror training? You were so obvious as to be laughable.” He turned to look at her, and even though she knew he could only see her outline at best, she still shivered at the look in his eyes.
This was probably not a good thing, and if Lucius hadn’t had her wand, she’d have hurried for the door, and had done with it. What a stupid thing to do, anyway. Following Lucius Malfoy, so she could tell him off in private? What was she thinking?
Before she knew what was happening, he had her pressed to the wall again. At least this time it was cleaner, she supposed. The whispered counter-charm to the Disillusionment spell had her shivering, though she wasn’t sure if it was from the spell fading away, or from those lips so close to her ear. She tried for bravado—it was something she’d always been good at faking. “Say your piece and have done, then.”
Lucius’s chuckle felt like it was sliding over her skin, and she shivered again. “Ah, but I’m not the one who sought you out, Nymphadora.” She glowered again at the name, but he continued before she could berate him for using it. “I find myself wondering why a mother would name her child something so sexual. But then, our mother never did seem to have her head on too straight.” His fingers caught her chin and lifted it so their eyes met. “Do you live up to your name, Nymphadora?” he purred.
She managed one word before his lips crashed against hers, and the epithet was forgotten in the heat that rose between them. This time she didn’t pull away. If she couldn’t battle him with words, she would find another way to master him.
She couldn’t recall how he’d managed to get her unclothed—possibly a spell. But her own fingers were far too busy with the multiple fastenings of his robes to worry about that. And even as she tried to remove the stiff fabric from his shoulders, she kept kissing him, lips and teeth and tongue, trying to pull some sort of reaction from him. The only response she got, though, was more of the same.
Then he was lifting her, and while Tonks knew she was petite, she wasn’t that small. She couldn’t help being impressed, but she pushed it to the back of her mind, clinging to him and nipping at his neck as he carried her to the couch and pushed her down onto it, then pressed against her. The first time was fast and rough, no words, only harsh breaths as they bit and licked and clawed at each other. She did wonder how he would explain the claw marks on his back to his wife (her aunt, her mind supplied too readily), but then, perhaps Narcissa was just as cold as she looked.
Tonks couldn’t remember coming that hard in her life. Even with Remus, who she’d always believed was her soulmate. She clung to Lucius, even after throes of her climax, knowing she’d never be the same again.
She’d left as soon as she’d possibly been able, her body bruised and stinging in a way that, had she been with anyone else she’d have stayed to encourage more. She’d stayed at home with her mother and Teddy for weeks after, scared to face the world, sure she’d see him anywhere she turned. Worse, that she’d see him with his wife. She wasn’t sure she could ever show her face in the Wizarding world again, sure that anyone she saw would be able to see just what she’d done with Lucius Malfoy.
So when he owled her, she didn’t answer at first. She couldn’t see him ever again. Not if she wanted to be able to retain any shred of dignity that might still remain. He hadn’t owled again, and she convinced herself that that was that. It was over, and she wouldn’t see him. Hopefully not even in passing.
Unfortunately, when she did see him again, every second of their last meeting raced through her mind, and before she knew it, she found herself alone with him once more, pressed against a wall as he took her again. She didn’t bother fighting it after that. She might not want to, but she needed it too much. At first she tried to convince herself that it would only be a once in a while occurrence, then that she would limit the time she spent with him to once a month…once a week…but she knew it was no use. An hour became an afternoon together, became an overnight stay at an inn on the outskirts of Bath—far too close to the Manor for Tonks’s taste, but she just couldn’t say no. So she finally stopped trying.
Whatever she might have expected from being Lucius Malfoy’s lover (mistress?), it wasn’t kindness or caring. And yet, somehow, he managed to give her just what she did need. With Remus, she’d grown used to simple gifts, flowers or a cup of tea waiting for her when she got home from the Ministry. But Lucius simply wasn’t that sort. Nor was he the kind to leave her jewels. She was rather certain her aunt received plenty from the man, but that wasn’t what they were about, so it didn’t bother her. Much.
What did shock her was that he wanted to talk to her after. As though he actually considered her worth speaking to, or that he might even truly care for her in some way. In fact, their talks left her far more shaken than the sex. At first, she would fight the tears that his questions provoked, leaving the room as soon as she could pull her clothes on and Apparate away to a safer spot. But his constant questions about her life before and during the war, and about Remus soon caused her defenses to fall completely. Especially one conversation.
“He wasn’t worthy of you.”
Even after months of sleeping with him, the words shocked her. “Excuse me?” Her hackles rose in defense of Remus once more.
“He hurt you. Don’t deny it. Everyone who saw you at all during that time could see it. You weren’t as sparkling as you’d been.” His tone was bored, but she knew better now. He only ever brought up subjects that truly mattered to him.
“And what makes you think I wasn’t mourning my cousin, hm?” she asked, scowling.
“Ah. So you married his lover out of sympathy, then?”
She stiffened in his arms, then moved to get up, but he held her back, rolling on top of her. “Deny it all you wish. We both know the truth, don’t we?” He kissed her then, and soon enough, she was relaxing into his caresses, pressing up against him. So what if Remus hadn’t really wanted her? So what if Lucius knew? He was here with her, and it was quite obvious he wanted to be. And really, shouldn’t that be enough?