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atdelphi (atdelphi) wrote in hp_beholder, @ 2014-04-22 15:55:00

FIC: "Fools in Love" for raven_cromwell
Recipient: raven_cromwell
Author: ???
Title: Fools in Love
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Julian Williamson/Nymphadora Tonks, Alastor Moody/Nymphadora Tonks
Word Count: 4445
Warnings/Content Information (Highlight to View): *[masturbation, age disparity]*.
Summary: Nymphadora Tonks is Alastor's best and brightest pupil, even if she's got terrible taste in men. Moody can't help but wish she'd look somewhere else when it came to her love life.
Author's Notes: raven_cromwell, thank you so much for so many excellent choices and so many great prompts to play with.

Thanks to my betas S. and K. for helping me whip this into shape.


Fools in love they think they're heroes
'cause they get to feel no pain
I say fools in love are zeros
I should know, I should know
Because this fool's in love again
—Joe Jackson, 1979

"Right, wands down. That's enough for today," Alastor said gruffly, banging his walking stick on the ground as a signal for his trainees to stop their duelling. "You can all go home. There'll be an exam and practical on Monday, so you'd best spend your weekend revising what you've learned." There was a collective groan from the students as he dropped that news on them. "We'll see if any of you manage to retain even one jot of information by then. Of course," he gave them his most menacing glare, "if you don't, it could cost you your life. So I suggest not skiving off."

The trainees grumbled and cursed as they grabbed up their things and began to shuffle out the training room door in various states of distress, all victims of curses, jinxes and hexes. Gillan's hair was singed and still smoking, Smith had a pair of antler buds jutting out of his prominent forehead, and Darville's face was currently green and scaly. Still, their current appearances were reversible, and any one of their conditions was still better than missing a leg, part of one's nose, or one's right eye, so Alastor had no sympathy for any of them. Besides, being stuck like that for a few hours might teach them to pay more attention to their spell work, and their opponents in future.

"Oi, you!" he called as a petite pink-haired witch hurried by him. "Tonks!" Without thinking, Alastor reached out with his free hand and grabbed the girl by her upper arm. It was firm, smooth and warm...

Much to his consternation, Alastor felt his body react as soon as he touched her. Thank goodness for baggy robes. He let go of her immediately, snatching his hand away as if he'd been burnt.

"What?"

Alastor was pleased to see she'd made it through the training exercise unscathed. "Your wand work was excellent. But your stealth was absolute shite. You sound like a bloody herd of drunk Erumpents when you're trying to sneak up on a target."

"But—" Tonks started. Alastor could see her lower lip beginning to tremble.

"Do you honestly think any Dark Wizard worth his salt is going to give a toss about your feelings when you come stomping along like that? No, he's going to use an Unforgivable Curse on you the moment he hears you coming. If you cannot manage to keep yourself from making so much bloody noise, then at least get yourself some proper kit. Put Silencing spells on your boots and your robes before you're just a pile of smouldering ash on the kerb. Do you understand me, Tonks? Constant vigilance is essential!"

Tonks swallowed, suddenly looking anywhere but at him, her cheeks as bright pink as that outlandish hair of hers. "Y-yes, sir," she finally managed. "May I leave now, sir?"

Alastor peered around the training room; all of the other students were long gone. A quick glance through the wall with his right eye revealed that Julian Williamson was loitering in the corridor outside, looking expectantly at the door. So that was the way of it... He waved towards the door in irritation. "Yes, yes, get out of my sight, Tonks."

She was out of the room like a shot, vaulting into the waiting Williamson's arms. Alastor could see them through the wall: Williamson comforting her, stroking her hair and talking softly to her before leaning down for a kiss. With that, the pair began snogging, causing Alastor to grunt in annoyance, before beginning to collect his own things.

He had never been able to stomach Julian Williamson, and supposed he never would. Smug little bastard had scraped by through Auror's training by the skin of his perfect, pearly white teeth, and his thoroughly put-on charm. Alastor had never reckoned a clever girl like Tonks would fall for an utter prat like that. To make matters worse, Williamson sported that ridiculous ponytail same as Arthur Weasley's eldest boy did. He'd never understood the appeal of such long hair, even on brilliant wizards like Albus Dumbledore. Long hair was a safety risk, too easily set on fire or used to as a weapon against its wearer. He still remembered how old Harrington had died, strangled by his own arse-length plaited hair. No doubt Williamson thought himself as invincible as the young almost always did.

Not that Alastor wished him dead, of course, although if looks could kill, Williamson would definitely have been in trouble. There had been far too much of that in the past, and if Albus was right about the Dark Lord returning, there soon would be more. He just wished that Williamson was less of an utter berk when it came to his personal appearance. Alastor himself had adopted short back and sides when he was fairly young, and that had kept him alive all these years. It was disappointing to realise that Nymphadora Tonks, who showed so much promise as an Auror, had so little sense that she'd get involved with a foolish callow boy like Williamson.

And just who did you expected she'd fancy, you old fool? You? Alastor grimaced, trying to push away the doubting voice resonating in his head.

His possessions now neatly stowed into his rucksack, Alastor gave the training room one final sweep to ensure he'd left nothing behind. The last thing he wanted was any of his belongings falling into the hands of an enemy or even just a mischief maker. Personal relics were the most important components in sympathetic magic, and he could not afford to take a chance of losing anything associated with himself. It could cost him his life.

He cast a sidelong glance at the corridor. Tonks and Williamson had manoeuvred themselves into a recessed alcove, still busily snogging. She had one leg wrapped around his, pressing herself against Williamson, his hands cupping Tonks' pert arse. Alastor had tried his best not to notice her bum or how nicely it filled her tight blue jeans, but it was a losing proposition.

The thought of it now made his cock twitch. Alastor growled and pulled at his robes to cover the evidence of his arousal. It did no good to dwell on such things.

Even if a pretty girl half his age like Tonks could ever manage to be attracted to a grizzled, beaten up old man such as himself, he knew better than to become attached to one of his students. He had learnt the hard way that getting emotionally involved with anyone, least of all a subordinate, was akin to the kiss of death. Beside the fact that it was completely against the Auror's Department regulations on fraternisation, and Alastor's own belief that it was utterly inappropriate, personal involvement was another weakness for the enemy to exploit and use against him, another chink in an Auror's armour for the enemy to slither through.

And that was anathema to Alastor. He had not managed to survive for this long by mooning over clever young witches like a pathetic fool.

Satisfied that the room was as secure as it was going to be, Alastor stepped out into the corridor, his wooden leg muffled to prevent it from clunking on the shiny marble floors. Peering ahead into the darkened hallway with his magical eye, he saw that Tonks and her young man were still at it. What were they thinking? What if Death Eaters had infiltrated the Ministry? What if He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named suddenly manifested himself in the middle of the Atrium, prepared to attack?

Clearly both Tonks and Williamson, who as a first year Auror really ought to know better, needed to be taught a lesson. A very painful lesson.

Alastor crept along the corridor until he reached their alcove, the pair of them oblivious to anyone or anything other than each other. With a flourish of his wand, he threw a Stunning Spell at them, lighting the area up in a brilliant blaze of scarlet light.

The spell ricocheted off one of the marble columns, not quite hitting its intended targets, but strong enough to shock them both.

"What the—-?!" Williamson exclaimed as the couple broke apart.

"Moody, what are you doing?" Tonks shouted, although her wand was already out.

"Pop quiz!" Alastor replied. "Surprise attack!"

"Oh, is that how it is?" Tonks flicked her wand, flinging what he suspected was a Bat-Bogey Hex directly at him. He was able to throw up a Protego inches from his face. Mucus bats splattered against it and dripped slowly to the floor.

"What were you thinking?" Alastor roared. "Anyone could've come upon you and murdered you while you were pawing at one another."

"We were not pawing at each other!" Tonks said indignantly, starting to blush again. Meanwhile, Williamson was still trying to work his wand out of his boot and failing miserably.

Alastor zapped him with a stinging hex, the younger man's face and bare arm immediately erupting into a mass of angry red welts, his fingers already swelling up like sausages. It would be hours before he could handle a wand again, let alone retrieve it. "Williamson, you're done for."

"Locomotor Wibbly!" Tonks whipped the Jelly-Legs Jinx at him, barely giving Alastor time to put up another Shield. The spell bounced harmlessly off the toe of his wooden leg in an explosion of sparks, the leg having been Charmed to be immune to any spells that affected flesh limbs.

Her eyes grew wide, and she stared at him in surprise, clearly having expected him to fall over.

"Enough!" Alastor knew Rufus Scrimgeour would not be pleased at the news that he'd been duelling with trainees in the corridors, no matter how practical the lesson might be.

Tonks kept her wand arm raised, smartly anticipating that this might be another ruse, while Williamson groaned in agony, looking at his swollen hand in dismay.

"No, I mean it. That's enough," Alastor continued with a curt nod of his head. His pulse was racing, his blood pumping straight to his groin. He'd always found duelling exhilarating, exciting, intoxicating, and this time was no different. He was grateful his cloak covered his loose robes, making his arousal less obvious, but he leant forward on his walking stick to further hide his growing erection. That was the very last thing he wanted Tonks to notice.

Thankfully she seemed unaware of the effect the duel had had on him. "You all right, Moody?" she asked. He'd clearly been unable to completely disguise his distress.

Doing his best to keep his expression impassive, he nodded again. "Don't you worry about me, Miss Tonks. Just pay more attention to what's going on around you. Distractions will only be the death of you."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Tonks pursed her lips. "Constant vigilance and all that."

At least she didn't roll her eyes the way Williamson did. Alastor had the urge to turn the young man into a hedgehog for his insolence, but that would've meant too much paperwork. Instead he flashed them his fiercest look and pointed to the exit. "Go! You shouldn't be hanging about here after hours."

Tonks quickly gathered her things, grabbed Williamson by his good arm and all but dragged him away.

Alastor waited until they'd gone before retreating to his office, his hard-on now throbbing painfully in his trousers. He checked his Foe Glass and other Dark Detectors as quickly as he could before locking the door behind him. He shrugged off his cloak and outer robes in great haste, then pulled down his trousers and underpants, freeing his aching cock from the confining fabric.

With a sigh of relief, he Summoned a small bottle of lubrication from one of his desk drawers, smearing the oil on his palms before settling back in his chair. Eyes closed, he set to work, stroking his cock slowly while thinking of her.

It only took a quick flick of his wand to turn Williamson into a hedgehog for his cheek. The little bastard immediately scurried into the farthest corner of the alcove and curled up into a terrified ball.

Tonks stared at him wide-eyed, then lowered her wand in surrender. "I never liked him much anyway," she conceded before tossing the wand to the ground entirely. "Now you on the other hand — I like you so much more."

Alastor raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Go! You shouldn't be hanging about here after hours, Miss Tonks."

"But I want to," she insisted, then sauntered up to him, moving in very closely. "I've been waiting for you, Moody."

"And just what were you waiting for?" he countered, although he already knew the answer.

Tonks pressed her lips to his; they were soft and warm and sweet. He didn't protest as she wound her arms around his neck and kissed him fully on the mouth. Alastor returned her kisses with equal fervour, wrapping his arms about her waist and letting his hands stray to her incredible bottom. It was firm and round beneath his fingers as he fondled it. Tonks let out a soft moan, rubbing up against him like a wanton Kneazle in heat.

Alastor broke away long enough to yank off his cloak and throw it to the floor of the alcove casting a quick series of Concealment Charms and Protection Spells. He made fast work of removing Tonks' clothes, savouring the vision of her standing there naked and beautiful in front of him.

She rushed into his arms, and peppered his face with kisses, covering his eyelids, his cheeks, his lips, and his nose, which was miraculously whole again. With deft fingers, she unfastened his robe, tugging it up and over his head before casually tossing it away. It was Alastor's turn to moan as she palmed him through his trousers, giving his cock a gentle squeeze. A guttural growl arose from his throat.

Giggling, Tonks squeezed him again. "I see the rumours that you'd lost your bits are patently untrue."

Alastor rocked his hips forward. "I promise you everything's intact."

"Good." She unbuttoned his trousers, then yanked them down around his ankles. She seemed unfazed by the sight of his wooden leg, smirking in appreciation at his still fit body.

He pulled her down onto the cloak, kissing her hungrily, his hands roaming over her lush, young body. Winding up on his back, Alastor allowed her to climb on top of him, her cunt hot and wet as she slid along the length of his cock. She rose up on her knees just long enough to pull his cock back, before sinking down upon it.

Alastor groaned again as he was sheathed in tight, wet heat. She tightened around him, then began to ride him, moving in long, deliberate strokes, then picking up pace...

His hand moved in the same rhythm, sliding up and down his slick shaft, squeezing and twisting as he went. Alastor bit at his lower lip, grunting with exertion, sweat beading on his furrowed brow as his hips pumped in time with his strokes. With a few more expert flicks of his wrist, he brought himself off, stars exploding behind his eyelids as the thick spurt of spunk splashed over his clenched hand.

He gasped for air, still fisting himself as he came down, and then finally stopped. Immediately, he grabbed his wand with his free hand and proceeded to clean up himself and the premises. Personal bodily fluids were the most potent kind of relic to use in Dark Magic, and he would not leave a trace behind.

Now that he had finished, Alastor felt a bit foolish. He was never one to take that sort of foolhardy risk, and yet Nymphadora Tonks seemed to have reduced him to a randy Third Year without even trying. Perhaps it was good that she'd be finishing up training shortly and joining the Auror's Department, and even better that he'd taken up Albus's offer to teach Defence Against The Dark Arts at Hogwarts in the autumn. He hoped that it would be a definite case of 'out of sight, out of mind'. It was best for him to forget about her before it caused him any real trouble.

*

Tonks thought the training session had been going quite well. She and her fellow trainees had been split up into teams, pretending to sneak up and ambush one another. She'd been able to take out Tate and Coleman with relative ease while managing to avoid any damage from her other opponents. A surge of pride in her abilities had rushed through her, at least until Moody grabbed her by the arm and admonished her in front of the entire class for her clumsiness, and her absolute failure at Stealth.

His words made her heart sink. Moody was her favourite teacher, the one she admired most, and to be dressed down like that in public was more than Tonks could take. The very last thing she wanted was to look bad in his eyes.

Tonks had been fascinated with Moody from the moment she'd started Auror's training nearly three years ago, harbouring a deep crush from the first day on. She couldn't help herself — Moody was an experienced Auror and one of the cleverest men she'd ever met.

As well as one of the most attractive.

Not that she'd ever admit that to anyone, of course. Her fellow students would just have laughed at her or thought she'd been Confunded. It pained her to hear them mock Moody and take the piss about him behind his back. He was a true hero, a veteran of the last War, and he'd earned every single scar and wound by fighting and capturing Dark Wizards. His mad magical eye, his wooden leg, and his rough appearance were all badges of honour in Tonks' estimation, marks of courage rather than derision.

The mere touch of his fingers around his upper arm sent her heart beating faster, a jolt of electricity coursing through her body. She'd often wondered what his hands would feel like on her, and now for the briefest moment, she knew — they were large and strong and callused and incredibly warm. It was embarrassing to realise her knickers were already soaked just by the slightest brush of his hand.

Her elation dissipated as soon as he began to criticise her, humiliation quickly flooding in to take its place. She bolted from the room at the first opportunity, and into Julian's waiting arms. He was the last person she'd expected to find hanging about, although she supposed she shouldn't be surprised. The daft git always seemed to be lurking about, always wanting for them to be together. It was bloody annoying.

Tonks wasn't even certain why she was going out with him. She didn't like Julian particularly, although he was very good looking. But he fancied her something awful, and he was a convenient shag buddy, even if he was as thick as a brick. She reckoned it wasn't too difficult being around him as long as he kept his mouth shut, and his hands busy. Just the way he was right now.

She allowed Julian to comfort her. His kisses and caresses were a good distraction from Moody's disappointment in her. Even if she secretly wished it was him doing the kissing and the touching in the corridor rather than Julian.

Tonks knew she was being silly — Moody was a brilliant instructor, but he only thought of her as another trainee, nothing more. She was too young and ridiculously clumsy and obviously as stupid as Julian in Moody's eyes. Even if it hadn't been utterly inappropriate for her to convey her crush on Moody, there was no way her feelings could be reciprocated, and Tonks wasn't about to embarrass herself any further.

It was probably just as well that if everything worked out properly, she'd be finished with training in another few weeks. Hopefully she'd be working full time at the Ministry after that, which meant she'd be far too busy to moon over Moody. She'd also heard rumours that Albus Dumbledore had offered him a teaching post at Hogwarts in the autumn, which sounded like a brilliant idea. However, Tonks would miss Mad-Eye terribly when he was gone, although the distance would make it a lot harder for her to make a fool of herself over him.

*

The Weasleys' lounge was very hot and cramped, thought Alastor as he took a seat, facing the window and his back against the wall. He expected it would only be worse when the rest of the Order got there. Ever since he'd got out of that bloody trunk, Alastor had been plagued by a touch of claustrophobia. That was yet another thing to blame on that bastard Barty Crouch Junior. If he hadn't been a soulless husk, Moody might've killed him himself.

Still, sitting in the confined lounge was better than being locked in a bloody trunk.

Alastor glanced around the room, looking at the Order's newest members, and realised he barely recognised any of them. Of course he knew Arthur and Molly's two eldest boys, along with Kingsley and Emmeline Vance, but some of the others in attendance were unknown to him. He'd have to talk to Kingsley to find out more about them, and make certain they were all who they said they were.

Now that Voldemort was back, one could never be too careful. Vigliance was more important than ever.

"Wotcher!" The familiar feminine voice shook Alastor out of his thoughts. There was Nymphadora Tonks, as lovely as ever, throwing herself into the waiting arms of Bill Weasley, then his brother Charlie's. Alastor felt a unexpected surge of jealousy rising as she kissed one boy on the cheek, then the other, laughing and joking with them in a thoroughly relaxed manner.

A year working at the Ministry hadn't seemed to change a thing about her, not even that absurd pink hair. He had missed her over the past twelve months; his ordeal in the trunk had given him far too much time to dwell on things. Particularly Tonks. Sometimes he thought the only thing that had got him through it all was focusing on her. It was a secret he'd take to his grave.

Charlie Weasley smirked and whispered something in Tonks' ear, causing her to blush. She smacked Charlie in the back of his big, fat head, then cast a glance over towards Alastor. Breaking away from her two ginger companions, she made a beeline to Alastor's side. "Anyone sitting here, Moody?"

Before he could give her an answer, she'd settled down in the chair next to him.

His heart leapt into his throat, but Moody kept his face impassive.

"It's brilliant to see you!" she continued. "Kingsley said you might be here today, and I'm so chuffed you are!" Moody was surprised at how genuinely pleased she seemed.

"Good to see you too, Tonks," he finally responded, his voice not giving away any of the comflicting emotions rushing through him.

She leant in closer, smelling of honeysuckle and strawberries. "How are you?" she asked, her voice thick with concern. "Kingsley told me all about what happened — it must've been so awful."

"I'm fine," he insisted, "although my eye's not been the same since." Alastor tapped his magical right eye. "Bloody thing keeps sticking since I got it back."

Tonks pulled a face. "I can't even imagine. They've barely talked about it at the Ministry. Fudge wants us all to pretend as if nothing really important happened but—I'd trust you over Fudge any day."

"Fudge is a damn fool." And speaking of fools... "How's Williamson? Shacklebolt said he and Dawlish are still spouting the party line."

"Williamson?" She gave a diffident shrug. "He's a berk. Haven't spoken to him in ages. He's got his head lodged so far up Fudge's backside that he's not worth talking to any longer."

It was very difficult not to smile at that news. At least the girl had got more sense since they'd last met.

Meanwhile, Tonks drew in a breath, her brows furrowing as if she were in deep contemplation before she spoke again. "I know it's a bit forward of me, but would you like to go for a drink some time? Just to catch up and all that."

Now that was unexpected. "Not certain that's a wise idea given the state of things right now. Plus, I never drink anything I haven't prepared myself." He patted the flask he wore at his hip as a reminder. What could she possible mean by that? Could she honestly want to socialise with him or was it some sort of test?

Tonks looked crestfallen, squirming in her seat. "Right. Of course. I knew that." A moment later, her expression brightened. "Well, you know, you could come round to my place for dinner one night instead. Of course, I'm a really terrible cook, and I reckon you don't eat anything you haven't prepared yourself either but—well, I'd really like to talk to you about everything that's been happening."

Alastor gave her a quick nod. Was it the wishful thinking of a lonely old man or was she being genuine? Was it even really Tonks? What if the Order had been infilatrated by Death Eaters under their very noses? There was only one way to find out. "As it happens, I don't eat anything not prepared by my own hands. But if you're willing to eat something I've cooked, perhaps we could work something out?"

"As long as you don't try and poison me as some sort of surprise test," said Tonks, now back to her normal cheery self. "You won't, will you?"

"I only do that to my students, not my colleagues," he answered, "And you're a full fledged Auror now, aren't you?" Until that moment, it hadn't even registered that she wasn't his trainee any longer, or bound by any rules regarding fraternisation. Something inside him broke, and he felt himself giving into what he'd thought had been a long lost feeling: optimism..

"Last time I checked. Got a badge and everything." She laughed. "I'm still pants at Stealth though. Perhaps you could teach me a few tricks on how to improve my skills? I probably could use some private lessons."

Alastor could've sworn that at that moment, she winked at him. The prospect of a meal with her suddenly got a lot more intriguing. "It-it might be something we could arrange."

Grinning from ear to ear, Tonks patted his hand, letting hers linger for longer than was absolutely necessary. "It's a date then."