"Viviane's Secret," Tonks/Fleur, NC-17 Title: Viviane's Secret Author:kethlenda Characters/Pairing: Tonks/Fleur Summary: Tonks, unlike the other women she knew, had never wasted much time envying Fleur’s flawless beauty. Rating: NC-17 Warning(s): PWP, infidelity Originally Written: 12/05 Notes: This was written for violet_quill's Make the Yuletide Gay chellenge. We got a prompt and then were supposed to write slash about it. My prompt was "Christmas shopping."
“I still don’t quite see why you needed me along on this little shopping expedition,” said Tonks. She had to admit she didn’t really want to be in Diagon Alley today, and only part of the reason was the fact that her shopping companion was more than a little stuck-up.
Truth be told, what was really bothering her was the silence. Diagon Alley should not be quiet, not the day before Christmas. There were few shoppers where once there had been bustling throngs, and it seemed everywhere she looked she spotted another boarded-up storefront. It was more than a little depressing, and doing absolutely nothing to get Tonks into the holiday spirit.
“I told you,” said Fleur in her accented English. “I wanted an Auror along, to be safe.”
Tonks didn’t quite believe it. Fleur had never been the tremulous sort. And besides, even if she’d wanted a little extra security, she could have gone with the rest of the Weasleys, two days ago. She was getting on much better with them now, and surely a whole army of redheaded in-laws outweighed one clumsy casual acquaintance, even if said acquaintance did happen to be an Auror.
“Ah, zere eet ees.” Fleur grabbed Tonks’s hand and tugged her in the direction of a gaily-lit window adorned with bright pink signs.
Tonks knew now why Fleur hadn’t wanted the Weasley Brigade along on this shopping trip. Viviane’s Secret, the finest lingerie shop in wizarding London. Tonks felt her cheeks burn as Fleur pulled her into the store, and she wasn’t sure it was just from the warm indoor air. She always felt out of place in this sort of shop, surrounded on all sides by lush velvets, diaphanous silks, and simpering saleswitches.
Fleur, on the other hand, seemed in her element, smiling at the staff and running her long slender fingers carefully along this negligee and that. “Eesn’t zees beautiful?” she cooed, holding up a midnight-blue babydoll. The sheer fabric was shot through with tiny specks of glitter so that the garment appeared to be spun from the night sky.
“Er…yes, it’s lovely,” she said.
“I zought so. Zees color, eet will go well with my hair, non?”
Tonks nodded absently, still feeling heat in her cheeks. She was willing to bet it had something to do with the thought of Fleur Delacour in a skimpy nightgown.
“I am going to get a dressing room,” said Fleur. “Come with me…Oh, Tonks, aren’t you going to try anyseeng on?”
“Er…”
“Here,” said Fleur, pressing a sherbet-orange camisole into Tonks’s hands. “Zees will be so cute wiss your hair.”
“It’ll clash,” protested Tonks.
“Non, it won’t. You’ll see.”
The dressing room was much larger than it appeared from the outside. Merlin, it was huge! And quite posh, with overstuffed brocade sofas, full-length mirrors in gilded frames lining all the walls, and a burgundy carpet so thick Tonks could have sworn her feet were sinking into it. She felt more out of place than ever.
She was so busy gawking at the décor that she didn’t notice, at first, that Fleur had changed into the little blue gown. “What do you seenk?”
Tonks looked up. “Wow,” she said, before she was quite conscious that there was sound coming out of her mouth. Fleur looked amazing.
Tonks, unlike the other women she knew, had never wasted much time envying Fleur’s flawless beauty. She was a Metamorphmagus, after all, and had tried beauty on for size like a glove or a shoe, had transmuted her face once or twice into perfection. Beauty, she had found, was more trouble than it was worth. She’d been flattered at first by the stares of passing men, but the pursed lips of women had hurt, and by the end of the day even the smiles annoyed her. I’m the same girl I was yesterday, she wanted to shout. I haven’t changed.. There were times she pitied Fleur her unrelenting beauty.
And besides, Tonks rather liked herself as she was.
What turned Tonks’s eyes green was Fleur’s grace. The regal tilt of her chin, the fluidity of her every gesture—she looked like a goddess. Fleur made the trashy negligee a nymph’s chiton, turned the dressing room to a princess’s boudoir.
Tonks realized she was staring, and looked away.
“You have not changed,” said Fleur. “Try on zee camisole!”
“It’s rather pointless, isn’t it? ‘S not like Remus ever notices stuff like that.”
Fleur let out a sparkling laugh. “Zey are zis way, men, non? Bill never notices eizzer. Rip eet off, throw it across zee room…Non, cherie, I wear zese seengs for myself. Zey make me feel pretty. See?”
Tonks gasped as Fleur, bold as brass, pulled Tonks’s battered T-shirt over her head and deftly unfastened her bra. She meant to tell Fleur off for invading her personal space, but somehow forgot.
The silky camisole was cold as Fleur pulled it down over her breasts, yet it was almost unbelievably soft. Fleur made a few adjustments, her hands brushing over Tonks’s nipples for a moment as she smoothed out the fabric. Tonks let out a tiny moan, and her eyes met Fleur’s for a moment, and she saw a longing there that mirrored her own, and Merlin only knew where this had come from all of a sudden, but—
It was impossible that anyone’s lips could be so soft, Tonks thought as she kissed Fleur, tangling her hands in that silvery fall of hair. Her hands fumbled clumsily at the hooks and laces of Fleur’s lingerie, oh, God, who ever thought it would be a good idea to make these things so bloody complicated, and then Fleur’s full breasts filled her hands.
Tonks caressed Fleur’s breasts lightly at first, then more roughly, pinching, and she felt hands touch her own nipples then, and she pinched harder, moaning into Fleur’s mouth. She broke the kiss after long moments, pushed Fleur against the dressing room wall. Fleur would need her balance for what Tonks was planning to do.
She bent to take first one breast, then the other, into her mouth, licking and laving and biting. Fleur was moaning, writhing now. Tonks knelt, roughly shoving Fleur’s knickers down to her knees. She brushed her hand lightly over Fleur’s cunt, heard a whispered, Please.
Tonks pleasured Fleur with her tongue, and slid two fingers into Fleur’s wetness. She thrust her fingers in and out, hard but slow, just the way she liked it herself, all the while working Fleur’s hard clit with her tongue. Fleur moaned again, pushed against Tonks’s hand and mouth, murmured endearments or swearwords in French.
Tonks slipped her other hand down her own knickers; she touched her own clit, and not a moment too soon. She was so wet, so hot down there, and she stroked herself to the rhythm of Fleur’s gasps and moans and murmurs.
Fleur cried out, muscles pulsing, and collapsed limply against the wall. The sound of her orgasm is what finally pushed Tonks over the edge, yes, yes, just one more touch and she came, hard, moaning against Fleur’s thigh.
It took both women a few minutes to catch their breath. Fleur recovered first, standing up again on legs that seemed to wobble a bit. “I seenk we should buy zese seengs, non?”