Happy Springsmut, inthesewalls! Author:green_amber Recipient:inthesewalls Title: Faces Rating: R Pairing(s): Tonks/Draco Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended. Summary: Tonks assumes three faces to spy on Draco Malfoy. Warnings: incest, underage, fourth-wall-breakage, first person Word Count: ~2450 Author's Notes: Xander, I hope this is up your alley. When I saw this pairing in your request along with a mention of sex with ulterior motives and something that fit into canon, this popped into my mind and refused to be dissuaded. :) Special thanks are owed to B.
Pansy
N--
I've asked the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to station you at Hogwarts this year. I need someone to keep an eye on Draco Malfoy; I believe he may have nefarious intentions. It is my suspicion that he took the Mark over the summer holidays.
I believe your particular talents may be of use at this time.
Sincerely, A
It was never supposed to happen. But as any Auror worth her salt'll tell you, there are times you've got to choose between breaking the rules and blowing your cover.
I'd fixed Harry's nose and seen him safely to the doors of the Great Hall, though unfortunately into the clutches of a particularly testy Severus Snape. Then I ducked into a deserted corridor, assumed the guise of a nondescript Hufflepuff student (who happened to bear an uncanny resemblance to myself at the age of thirteen) and slipped back into the Hall to watch the girl.
It's not easy, Metamorphosing into people. Specific people, I mean. It's harder than Polyjuice, because you've got to observe, get everything right, down to the last detail. With Polyjuice, the magic does it for you, but it takes a month to brew and only lasts an hour.
(What? Oh, that. I put that story round myself. A spot of conspicuous moping, a head of brown hair, and they all think you're washed up. Which means they aren't looking for you in anyone else's face.)
The Order had briefed me about her, so I knew her name and I knew she was Draco's girlfriend, though I could have deduced the latter just by watching the way she stared at him worshipfully and fed him little morsels of her food. I kept watching, despite the urge to gag, because any little thing can be a giveaway if you do it wrong. Like I've said before, you don't last long in this business without being good at observing people.
I memorized the way her sleek black bob swung around her face as she moved, the mole on her left cheek, and the way she stroked her collarbone as she gazed at Draco. When she rose at the end of dinner, I watched the tiny mincing steps she took. That would be the hardest part. Mum always said I walked like a lorry driver.
Two nights later, I waited in the prefects' loo.
"Hello, Draco," I purred. I was proud of my Pansy voice. I'd worked my arse off trying to get it pitch-perfect.
Draco, who'd been in the middle of stripping off his school robes, jumped a little, then tangled himself in his sleeve turning to look at me. "Pansy," he said.
"Thought I'd surprise you," I simpered, swallowing my distaste for the little brat. I tilted my head and smiled. Her hair--my hair--tickled my cheek. Irritating. I didn't have this problem with my usual spikes. I resisted the urge to brush it away.
He responded with a smile so smug that I wanted to hex him into next week. "I could use a massage, love." With that, he finished chucking his robes and started unbuttoning his shirt. Pasty and scrawny, I thought as I schooled my features into the adoring look I'd seen her giving him in the Great Hall, and then I spotted a dark shape on his arm.
Draco sat down on the edge of the vast bathtub, giving me a wink over his shoulder. I was beginning to think Draco saw a girlfriend as a house-elf, but I had to play along for a bit, if only to get a good look at that arm.
I knelt down behind him and started kneading his bony shoulders. And saw it.
He yelped. "Watch it. Just got that and it hurts."
"It's so impressive, though."
Draco preened. "Smartest decision I ever made. Things will be different this year at Hogwarts. Mark my words."
I caressed his neck, his cheeks, in what I hoped passed for devotion. "What have you got in mind, love?"
"Mmmm, I can't tell you that." He leaned his head back against my chest and, ick, started stroking himself through his trousers. "Fancy sucking me off? I've had a long day."
I feigned petulance. "Why should I do that when you won't even tell me what you're planning, Draco? I thought you trusted me."
"I can't tell you, Pansy. It's big, though." He undid his trousers and kept stroking.
(It wasn't.)
"Come on, you can tell me," I whispered against his cheek. Ugh, this was disgusting. Even if I weren't related to the little creep, he wouldn't be my type, with the peach-fuzz face and the nasty little smirk.
He grabbed one of my hands and wrapped it around his cock. I gritted my teeth and closed my eyes, glad he couldn't see my facial expression. "I. Can't."
I tried not to think about what I was doing. I tried to think of England, or maybe just that this was marginally less revolting than sucking him off, and maybe he'd spill something in the heat of--
He spilled, all right, all over my hand. I congratulated myself for having the fortitude to not wipe it off in his hair. I kissed him on the cheek and said goodnight. At least I'd got one crucial bit of information.
Rosmerta
N--
Madam Rosmerta informs me that D. Malfoy has been frequenting the Three Broomsticks of late, lurking about and acting in a suspicious manner, despite the fact that we have yet to schedule a Hogsmeade weekend. Your work in uncovering his Mark was invaluable; perhaps similar tactics will reveal further information.
A.
The note made me snort.
If there was one thing that bugged me about Albus Dumbledore, it was his willingness to give everybody a second chance, and a third chance, and a sixtieth chance, no matter what they'd done. I told him about Draco's Mark, and all he said was that he'd "keep an eye on him" and that it would be safer to keep Draco at Hogwarts, hemmed in by the school administration, than expel him and send him into his aunt's waiting arms, or send him to prison and take the chance Voldemort'd break him right back out.
There was logic in his argument, I had to admit, but it still sort of galled me letting him walk about the place with a Mark on his arm. Especially after the extreme measures I went to. I mean, I touched the brat's cock, for Merlin's sake.
(No, I didn't tell Dumbledore that part.)
So I got to tail Draco around the school all through the fall. I never got anything out of him, not even by disguising myself as one of those two goons he liked to run around with. Who'd have thought the kid could keep a secret? I never managed to catch him sneaking off to town illicitly, either, for which I kicked myself a lot.
The first scheduled Hogsmeade weekend was in October, though it felt more like January. The wind whipped at my cloak and threatened to send it sailing down the High Street. I clutched it tighter around my face and body, both because I was cold and because I didn't want to be recognized, not until Draco showed up. There are a lot of things you can fake, but a barkeep's knowledge of everyone in town isn't really one of them.
That was one of the reasons the real Rosmerta and I decided it would be better if I tried to intercept Draco in the street rather than taking Rosmerta's place in the pub. That, and I don't think she wanted me anywhere near her glassware.
I wished again that Draco would hurry up. I was about to freeze Madam Rosmerta's tits off. It started to sleet, and I decided there was no weather worse than winter rain. At least snow waited until you were inside before it melted.
A bedraggled owl careened toward me. Poor thing. I held out my arm for it to land on, and untied the note from its leg.
N-- Minerva has just informed me that D. has detention with her today. Very sorry to have sent you out in this dismal weather for nothing.
P.S. Would you mind stopping by Honeydukes and bringing me back a few sherbet lemons? A.
I sighed and tucked the note into my pocket. Harry was rounding the corner, and Merlin, I love the kid but it didn't surprise me one bit that he was shouting about something. I snapped back to my real body (farewell, great tits, I'll miss you) and went to see what was wrong.
It wasn't long before much more was wrong, and I had a cursed necklace to investigate, but that was another story, or at least I thought it was at the time.
Bellatrix
N--
D. has been spotted loitering in a corridor on the seventh floor, near the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. I haven't the faintest idea what he's doing there. I've never seen anything of interest in that corridor but a very well-stocked repository of chamber pots, and that only once. Still, I find it curious.
I have also been informed that D. is learning advanced magical techniques under the tutelage of his aunt.
--A.
I knew that face like the back of my hand.
I kept her picture on the wall of my Hogsmeade apartment, and before that it had hung in my cube at the Ministry. It was burned more indelibly into my brain. Seeing it in my mirror was more of a shock than I'd expected. I felt like screaming. I laughed instead, testing the cackle I'd been practicing for weeks.
I sent shivers down my own spine. It was spot-on.
With this face, it was even more important to keep my hood low over my face as I waited in the corridor. Being seen as Rosmerta by the wrong person might have resulted in embarrassment. Being seen looking like this--well, people were likely to hex first and ask questions later if there were any bits left of me to interrogate.
It was the fourth time I'd haunted this corridor; he usually brought his goons, and I wanted to talk to him alone. This time, I got lucky. Only one set of footsteps padded toward me; only one hooded figure skulked into the corridor, looking back over his shoulder. A moonbeam glancing from a slit window illuminated his pale, drawn face.
"Draco," I cooed.
He jumped, and when I lowered the hood of my cloak, he gave an audible gasp. "Aunt Bella."
I pressed my wand to the underside of his pointed chin. "What are you doing here?"
"The p-plan," he said. "It's to do with the plan!"
I licked my lips. There was something satisfying, in a sick sort of way, about watching him shake in his (metaphorical) boots. I wondered if that was what it felt like to be Bellatrix Lestrange, and decided I didn't like that thought much at all.
"And what's it got to do with the plan?" I blustered.
I shit you not, the kid dropped to his sodding knees. And grabbed hold of my calf through the tattered robes I'd put on for the occasion. "It's...it's complicated, Aunt Bella, but it's to do with getting them in, and..."
He was rubbing my calf up and down. Bugger. Please tell me he hasn't been shagging her...
"I swear," he said, "I'm going to do it. I really am. I'll kill the old bastard, really."
I smiled. Finally, some information. "Good boy," I murmured, stroking his fine pale hair. "I have faith in you."
His hand was moving up my thigh. Fuck, he was sleeping with her. Now what was I going to do?
"Mmm, you're trying to distract me, aren't you?"
He blinked. "N-no, of course not."
"You were telling me about the plan."
His aunt's sudden forgetfulness didn't seem to faze him. Maybe she still had some holes in her memory from Azkaban.
"The plan is, I'm going to kill that old fool, and the Dark Lord will honor me."
"I'm so proud of you," I simpered, swallowing bile, because I knew what old fool he meant. And now he was toying with the elastic of my knickers. While talking about killing someone I admired. What could I say to shake him off that would be in character for dear Auntie Batshit?
Not now, Draco, I've got places to go, Mudbloods to torture...
He pulled my knickers down to my knees. I wasn't sure what was more disturbing, the fact that he was doing this with someone he thought was his aunt, or the fact that I really was his cousin and was letting him get away with it. Liked it, even. Not now, Draco...places to go... but I didn't stop him when he started licking me and I didn't quite know why, except that on some level it felt like it was only fair after "Pansy" serviced him. It was wrong and it was against Auror code and we were going to get caught, but I didn't push him away.
He kept tonguing me, and I leaned back against the stone wall, hating myself more than a little, but at least Bellatrix gave me an excuse to vent my anger. I twisted a hand in Draco's hair, dug my nails into his shoulder, and didn't feel more than a tiny twinge of guilt when he yelped.
He didn't stop. She must be like this all the time, I guessed.
My orgasm, when it came, was fucked up, pleasure and anger stirred together into one heady, toxic potion. "That's my good boy," I said. "Now run along, you've got an important job to do."
He wiped his face on the sleeve of his robes, and nodded obediently. I made myself decent and swept out of the corridor in what I hoped looked like an imperious glide, ruining the effect slightly by tripping over a loose stone. I wasn't sure if he'd seen.
I'd never been so happy to assume my real face again.