Title: Three and a Half Christmases
Author: krissy_cits
Pairing: Harry/Tonks via Harry/others
Summary: Harry wakes up from a night of partying to find a certain someone under his tree. What happens next is utterly surprising, but perhaps he should have known all along.
Rating: NC-17
Length: 5,600
Warnings: Lots of voyeuristic smut scenes, semi-public sex, overuse of pronouns and way too much Christmas Firewhisky. AU where Tonks is alive and single post-battle.
Author's notes: I've wanted to write Harry and Tonks ever since that wink in Order of the Phoenix, so thank you for the prompts and the creative shove! I used a couple of your pairings (sort of). I also lay no claim to the idea of A Christmas Carol which this story loosely resembles. Merry Christmas! Many thanks to BC and HH for betaing.

Harry woke slowly, resisting the pull of wakefulness and hoping to return to slumber. But his bladder was full, his stomach was grumbling, and his headache would not be ignored.

Gingerly he rose and slipped out of bed, groping for his glasses in the pre-dawn darkness. Once he could see, he found a pair of pyjama pants and slid them on. That done, he tiptoed out of his bedroom and down the corridor to the toilet. Once his bladder had been taken care of, he continued down the stairs to the kitchen of number twelve, Grimmauld Place. His foot knocked a bottle that went crashing down several stairs before rolling to a stop. A few more steps down, he stepped in a warm, sticky puddle that had him cringing. Last night's party had been a doozy.

He'd moved in here after he'd completed his Auror training and gone to work for the Ministry. It had taken more than his own considerable skill to remove the final traces of Dark Magic left by the Blacks—and to permanently Unstick the portrait of the ignoble Mrs Black. She now resided with Farilda Flanks in a remote area of the Ministry for Magic historical archives, thanks to Tonks and her blood relation to the house's magic. After that, Harry had turned the former safehouse into a home.

A home which was currently covered in the remains of a bloody good party.

Harry tripped over another Firewhisky bottle as he entered the kitchen. It rolled under the table and came to a stop with a clink against another of its kind. Empty sweet wrappers littered the table along with every single mug, glass, and cup Grimmauld Place possessed. Leftover food covered the counters—Harry supposed Kreacher hadn't yet woken and begun his day. Either that or he'd decided to leave this mess to Harry. He scrubbed a hand over his face and wondered if he could convince Ginny to perform some of the household cleaning spells she'd learned from Molly. Then he remembered the way they'd parted a few months ago—not amicably—and he resigned himself to a messy house for the time being.

After preparing some tea, Harry leant against the sink and downed one of the vials of Sober Up Potion that had been set out for his guests. Headache taken care of, Harry turned his attention to his rumbling stomach. A tray of treacle tarts sat on the end of the table closest to him, so Harry quickly ate a few, ignoring the fact that they were quite stale. He was just biting into the last one when he heard the sounds of someone singing.

He had plenty of rooms here, so he knew several of his friends had opted to spend the night. However, it seemed at least one of them was up at this unwizardly hour just like him. He crept out of the kitchen, not wanting to scare whoever it was. Her voice was beautiful—clear and strong. Harry moved silently to the open door of his sitting room, remembering at the last second to avoid the creaky floorboard just outside the door.

Peering in, he saw Luna sitting on the floor at the base of his Christmas tree. Her hair tumbled down her back in silky blonde waves. She continued singing a jaunty Christmas melody as she used her wand to Levitate strands of tinsel onto the branches of the tree. Harry was mesmerized by her voice and her graceful movements, so much so that it took him a moment to realize she had spoken to him.

"I said, are you ready, Harry?" she asked, her back still to him.

Sheepishly, Harry shuffled into the room. "Morning, Luna," he said, his voice still gravelly with sleep and the after-effects of his partying. "Ready for what?"

He had grown used to Luna's non-linear thinking over the years, so her abrupt question didn't faze him. When she turned to face him, however, her garment did stop him in his tracks. It looked like some sort of nightdress—high, frilly collar; long sleeves; a row of buttons marching down the front. But that was where the similarities ended, because the whole thing was made of a gauzy, sheer material that was completely see-through.

And Luna was completely nude beneath it.

Harry swallowed thickly, then rubbed his eyes for good measure. "Er, Luna—"

"Are you ready, Harry Potter?" she asked in that same dreamy tone. She rose to her feet and held her hand out to him expectantly.

Ready for what? Harry wondered. Did they have some kind of assignation planned? He was suddenly, uncomfortably aware of his shirtless state. He didn't think he would have flirted with Luna; then again, he was frustratingly single once more and he had been partaking of the spiked Butterbeer rather heavily. In fact, he seemed to recall—a bit muzzily, mind you—kissing Lavender under the lopsided mistletoe and offering to rub Tonks down with peppermint oil. He winced.

"Are you ready to find love before it's too late?" Her question interrupted his disturbingly enticing ruminations on Tonks and full-body massages. He mentally shook himself and focused on Luna. Finding love? He wasn't sure that's what he was after. Then Luna shifted and her nipples winked through the sheer fabric of her gown, and Harry decided to just go for it.

"Yes, I'm ready." He placed his hand in hers, expecting to follow her upstairs to an empty room.

He did not expect to be Side-Along Apparated back into the Forest of Dean.

-0-0-0-

"Son of a bludger!" Harry cursed as he stumbled forward with the momentum and landed on his hands and knees. "Luna, what—"

She shushed him and began drifting deeper into the trees to their left. Harry regained his feet and brushed the leaves off of his pyjamas. Scowling, he followed her into the foliage.

"We could have just used the sofa," he grumbled, but Luna did not respond. She pressed onward for another ten minutes, during which time Harry decided she had finally lost her mind and become as bonkers as everyone thought she was. His feet protested the walk on the chilly ground, covered with rocks and twigs and crunchy leaves. He was thoroughly regretting his drinking from the night before, and every decision that had brought him to this point. He could only hope that Luna had something spectacularly special in mind.

They continued into a clearing, and suddenly Harry felt a strong sense of foreboding.

He knew this clearing.

Indeed, there was the tent they'd used during that awful year. The static sounds of their radio reached his ears, and Harry saw two shadows moving inside the canvas.

"Do you have a Time-Turner?" Harry asked Luna's back. His anger flared and swamped him when she didn't answer, but merely kept moving inexorably closer to the tent. "LUNA! I don't know what you're playing at, but I don't want to be here. Luna, did you hear me—"

He made to grab her arm but his fingers closed over air. He stared down at the place where he'd attempted to touch her, then tried again. His hand passed right through her arm. "Luna...I'm seriously starting to freak out right now..."

Harry's breath came faster and his heart was racing. He wondered if he had died—or if he was dreaming—or if there was something else at play here, some form of Dark Magic that his Muggle background had not prepared him for...

At least now he had Luna's attention. "You're wasting time, Harry Potter," she said unhurriedly. "Watch, and learn."

She gestured at the tent and Harry drew closer as if he was pulled by puppet strings. The slow thrum of music matched the hard thumping of his heart as he approached. If this was really four years ago—if he was back in that tent, with Hermione—he both dreaded and anticipated the sight that awaited him.

He hesitated at the front flap of the tent. Luna was suddenly beside him, her ghostly hand resting on his arm. "It will be alright, Harry," she murmured, and then she just—drifted through the canvas. Harry gulped in a deep breath and followed her, too caught up in what was going on to even be concerned about his ability to pass through solid matter with ease.

Inside the tent, his seventeen-year-old self sat despondently at the table, spinning his wand around and around as he listened for any news from PotterWatch. Hermione was huddled in the corner, her face barely visible above the collar of Ron's abandoned jacket and beneath her own halo of hair. Harry watched as his younger self sat up straighter when the PotterWatch caster's voice crackled over the line.

"Wotcher, folks! This is Changeling with a quick update. The Headmaster has been suspiciously absent from his duties this week according to our informants inside the castle. As for myself, I'll be joining their ranks soon as an undercover operative... Wish me luck as I head into the belly of the beast..."

Present-day Harry tuned out most of the remainder of the broadcast, words like "danger" and "worst-case scenario" bouncing around in his brain while he wondered why Luna had brought him to this point in time. He watched silently as his younger self stared at the radio with such an expression of devastation that it wrenched his heart. Young Harry prodded the wireless with his wand and a jolly Christmas tune spilled out, making both him and Hermione frown. Another prod had a decidedly more melancholy sound weaving through the tent, and Harry tried to leave, backing away from the scene before it could progress. This, he didn't want Luna to see.

But she placed herself between him and the wall of the tent, providing a surprisingly strong barrier for such a—well, transparent—girl. "Watch," she said again, needlessly. He could hardly do anything else, could he?

In the tent, Hermione sighed. Teenage Harry glanced over at her and his lips set in a firm line. He stood and held out his hand, which she took after a long moment. He hauled her up and then they were dancing, awkwardly and hesitantly at first. Gradually, as the sad song wove its own magic around them, they twirled and even smiled, a stolen moment of frivolity in a year of utter darkness. Younger Harry brought Hermione closer, wrapping his arms around her waist as Nick Cave crooned through their wireless. They swayed their way to the end of the song, and Harry watched as he placed his lips against the base of Hermione's throat. At the time, he hadn't meant anything by it; only an action of comfort in a distressing time. But then Hermione had turned her head and caught his lips with hers, and things spiraled into a world of heat and misplaced passion.

Harry and Luna watched as Hermione shoved Harry backwards onto one of the camp beds: Luna, impassive and unreadable; Harry, with a shameful twitch of his now-interested cock. This wasn't what he'd imagined when he'd taken Luna's hand back at Grimmauld Place. He would never have classified himself as a voyeur, but there was something undeniably arousing about watching himself with Hermione, and knowing he had an audience.

Before them, Hermione was busily removing layers upon layers of clothing while Harry struggled out of his denims. All too soon they were naked, their lips relocked in a battle for dominance, and bizarrely Harry hoped that Luna was impressed with him. Or, with his younger self.

This was all so confusing.

He shook his head and decided he would try to sort himself out later. There was still a good chance that this was all a strange hangover dream, and that he would awaken to his normal life.

In front of them, Hermione had stopped, looking uncertain. "Do you want to turn off the lights, Harry?" she asked hesitantly. "You know, if you wanted to pretend it was Ginny..."

His younger self peered up at her, shaking his head no. "I'm here with you, Hermione, not anyone else." Present-day Harry patted himself on the back for the proper response under pressure. "Er, unless you wanted the lights off?"

Hermione gave him a small smile. "I'm here with you too, Harry Potter," she replied, and then they were kissing and stroking each other again. Over the wireless, Tonks' voice rang out "with a message for the Boy Who Lived, if he's listening: we're all rooting for you, Harry." Harry watched as his younger self glanced over at the wireless, then guiltily returned his attention to Hermione, firmly closing off any wayward thoughts.

Now Hermione was straddling him, and she was a glorious vision with her hair unbound and her perky breasts hovering just above his face. Right as Harry had decided to let himself fully enjoy watching this odd tableau, he felt the chill of Luna's fingers on his shoulder.

"Time to go, Harry Potter," she said softly.

He didn't even have time to protest as their surroundings swirled away in a silver mist.

-0-0-0-

He landed more gracefully this time, managing to avoid sprawling on the floor. Gratefully, Harry saw that they were back at Grimmauld Place. The corridor was decorated just as he'd left it, with swigs of holly and pine loping over the walls. He glanced around, relieved to note that Luna was nowhere to be seen. He supposed that if this was in fact a dream, he would still have a hard time looking Luna in the face the next time he saw her.

Voices sounded from down the hallway, and Harry debated dashing upstairs to his room before he could be spotted. He was still reeling from—whatever—that experience had been and he wasn't sure he was fit for company at the moment.

Then he realized—those weren't just any voices.

It was himself, and Lavender Brown.

-0-0-0-

Harry inhaled sharply and darted into the nearest doorway. He closed it until only a crack was remaining, now truly afraid of what was happening to him. Had he lost his mind? Was this some kind of long-delayed side effect of a curse he'd been hit with during the war? What was going on?

He must have spoken the last out loud, because Luna answered from behind him. "You still have much to learn, Harry Potter," she said. Harry spun around to see the same Luna he'd just gotten rid of, sheer nightdress and all.

"I don't understand!" he burst out. "Why are you doing this to me?"

Luna tilted her head to the side as she considered him. "You're doing this to yourself," she replied, as though he was dim-witted. "You need to learn about love, Harry, and it's my job to help you."

He was on the verge of peppering her with more questions when she pressed a finger to her lips for quiet. "Pay attention," she whispered, gesturing towards the door. Harry obeyed, turning to peer out of the crack into the corridor, not knowing or understanding why he did so.

Lavender's face was visible through the slat in the door, and she was grinning victoriously. She pointed over his head—as well as the head of the Harry standing with her in the hallway. "You're under the mistletoe," she crowed.

Hallway-Harry mumbled something incoherent about the presence of nargles in mistletoe, but Lavender was advancing on him with a predatory look on her face.

"Pay attention, Harry Potter," Luna repeated from behind him. Harry looked on the scene in the hallway, seeing Tonks' approach. He racked his brain for memories of the night before, but everything was hazy after a certain point. He desperately hoped that Tonks was here to rescue him from Lavender's clutches.

It was not to be, however. Lavender's mouth crashed down on Harry's right as Tonks neared them. Harry and Luna watched from their hiding spot as Harry and Lavender snogged in the hallway, heedless to those around them. Present-day Harry was not oblivious, however, and he saw Tonks' look of disgust as she shoved past, knocking Lavender even closer to Harry.

Shame and a weird sense of guilt enveloped him as he watched Tonks' retreating back. Silently he urged himself to disentangle from Lavender and find something else to do with his hands, but it was no use. His Firewhisky-drunk self was happily kissing Lavender Brown, and feeling her up to boot.

"Shall we go somewhere more comfortable, Harry?" Lavender asked, stroking one hand through his hair. Harry watched himself glance in Tonks' direction, clearly uncertain. Then he heard Tonks laughing with Charlie Weasley, and he saw himself notice Tonks' hand on Charlie's muscled, tattooed forearm. He knew what was coming with a sickening sense of inevitability.

"Yeah, why don't we," he intoned, grabbing Lavender's hand and leading her up the stairs. Luna pulled the door open and gestured for Harry to follow them up the stairs, so he saw Tonks watching them go. For the first time, he saw true sadness in her eyes.

Uncomfortable with his feelings, Harry followed himself and Lavender up the stairs. In all honesty, his curiosity was peaked; he really couldn't remember much of anything that had happened the night before. This would at least restore some of his memories.

Upstairs, Harry and Lavender were stripping in one of the larger bathrooms, steam curling out of the hot shower that was running. Luna glided over to the foggy mirror and began tracing patterns in the condensation, seemingly unconcerned with the sexual escapades going on behind her. Harry watched, detached, as his other self pressed Lavender against the tile wall and began to pepper her body with kisses. When he sank to his knees in front of her, Harry felt his cheeks go red. He glanced at Luna—she still wasn't paying attention—then back at the scene in the shower. He could only hope his technique wasn't too long out of practice, but judging by the way Lavender was moaning, he was doing alright. He made a mental note to position himself a bit differently the next time he had a girl in his shower—

"You seem good at that," Luna remarked from right next to him.

Harry jumped. "Do you have to sneak up on me every time?" he grumbled, his concentration lost. The sound of someone pounding up the stairs made him turn to look at the door, and sure enough, Tonks burst in a moment later.

"Oh, sorry, didn't realize anyone was in here," she announced, but sober Harry could tell she was lying. Shower-Harry and Lavender didn't seem to notice or care, however, as they continued on without any qualms. Tonks rolled her eyes and turned both sink faucets on full blast, then flushed the toilet.

"Oy!" Shower-Harry jumped back from the suddenly-cold spray. Then he noticed they were no longer alone. "Oh, um, we'll just..."

"Reckon you ought to," Tonks replied, somewhat saucily. Harry smiled at her sass. He supposed he could also admit that he was smiling because she had clearly abandoned Charlie... "Go on. Shoo," Tonks told them, and Harry was amused to see himself and Lavender jump to obey. He wondered if he would enjoy Tonks ordering him around if it was just the two of them...his cock twitched and he admitted that yes, he definitely would enjoy being bossed around by Tonks. In the shower. With his face between her legs...

"Time to go again." Luna interrupted his very pleasant thoughts with a chilly hand on his shoulder. "Although next time you might want to lock the door," she mused in that dreamy way of hers. Harry wondered if she could read minds, and even as he thought it, she turned to look at him. "You mean you can't?"

Harry tried very hard to bank his thoughts, especially the ones about her in her sheer nightdress. "You're a little bit scary, you know, Luna," he said carefully.

"Only if you're afraid of the truth, Harry Potter," she declared, and then they were spinning through time again.

-0-0-0-

Harry didn't have to look around to figure out where they were this time—he would know his parents' gravesites anywhere. In fact, this particular cemetery at Christmastime would be forever emblazoned in his memory. The question was, what was there to be learned here? He'd never had sex with anyone in Godric's Hollow, that he knew without a doubt.

"Psst, Harry. Fancy a go in a graveyard?" someone whispered in his ear. He spun to find Tonks standing next to him, her nose and cheeks adorably pink from the cold, her hands tucked into a fluffy cloak and her breath escaping her mouth in puffs of white air. Harry had to shake his head, hard. "I've always thought cemeteries were oddly sexy."

"I—what?"

"Come on, Potter, haven't you always wanted to try it in public?" Tonks asked, skipping a few steps away from him towards a giant tree. "No one's out here today, it's too cold."

"Er, right. That's exactly why I don't want to put myself on display just now." Harry glanced down in the direction of his crotch. It really was frigid out.

When he looked up again, Tonks was pouting. "Fine. I'll just have to polish my own wand later, then." She sighed dramatically, then laughed at Harry's expression. "Just a teeny kiss?"

"Um, okay," Harry replied. He looked around but there was no Luna here. He wondered what year it was, and how they'd ended up here, and whether or not he was a ghost version of himself. So many questions, and his mysterious tour guide had up and left him. He approached Tonks and pursed his lips, prepared to give her a quick buss on the cheek. She, however, had other plans; she yanked him behind the tree and pressed him up against the bark, latching her lips onto his and ravishing his mouth with her own teeth and tongue. Harry's previously-cold cock began to sit up and pay attention.

Tonks continued kissing him, and Harry kissed her back. He figured if this was some weird figment of his imagination, then what was the harm? She moved to his earlobe and then his neck, and Harry stopped resisting entirely. His hands found her ass and gently squeezed her cheeks; she growled in pleasure as she bit his shoulder and then sank to her knees in front of him. Now his cock was extremely interested in the goings-on, even if it was freezing cold. Tonks made short work of his zipper and had his erection freed in no time. She stroked him a few times with her hands before leaning forward to lick the tip of him and then take his whole length into her mouth. Harry actually felt his knees buckle and he was grateful for the support of the tree trunk.

Tonks had just found her groove when someone shouted, "Mum! Dad! Colin's set the Kneazle on fire again!"

Harry jerked upright the same time as Tonks sprung to her feet, and her head collided with his chin. "Ow!" they both yelled, rubbing the injured areas. "Sorry," Tonks added, hastily tucking Harry back into his clothing. "Mummy's over here!" she shouted back, straightening her clothing before stepping out from behind the tree.

"What are you doing?" the little voice asked, much closer now.

"I had to tie Daddy's shoe for him. Was Colin practicing magic in the house again?" she asked, rather neatly changing the subject, Harry thought.

Harry peered around the tree and gasped when he saw a small girl, about seven or eight, with the same shockingly pink hair as Tonks was sporting. The girl looked up at him with huge green eyes. "Is Daddy sick? He looks funny," she whispered—loudly—to Tonks.

Tonks twisted to smile wickedly up at Harry. "Daddy will be better in a little while," she said, laughing. Harry scowled. "Shall we go put Mad-Eye Kitty out of his misery?" she asked the girl. Nodding, the child took Tonks' hand and pulled her towards the gate. Tonks glanced back at Harry and called, "Well? Are you coming? We've got to leave for the Burrow soon; wouldn't want to miss Molly's Christmas dinner!" She grinned wickedly at him again. "Maybe we can sneak off during dessert, I recall Arthur keeps a fairly large toolshed..."

Dumbfounded, Harry watched them go. Was he supposed to go with them? How old was he? He had, apparently, at least two children and a pet Kneazle?

Scratching his head, Harry looked around the graveyard. As his gaze swept back towards the gate, however, he landed on a ghostly Luna, resting casually against a tombstone.

"Have you learned yet, Harry Potter?" she asked, seemingly unaffected by the extreme cold, clad as she still was in her nightdress.

"What am I supposed to have learned, exactly?" he asked, at a loss.

Luna shook her head sadly. "I can't tell you, Harry. You have to know it for yourself." She hopped down from her perch and held out her hand. "It's time to go back, Harry Potter. Remember what you've seen."

As soon as his hand touched hers, they spun away.

-0-0-0-

Harry woke slowly, resisting the pull of wakefulness and hoping to return to slumber. But his bladder was full, his stomach was grumbling, and his headache would not be ignored.

Then he remembered his bizarre dream, and he jerked upright in his bed. His head spun and he instantly regretted his sudden movement.

Closing his eyes, he took several deep breaths until the nausea passed. He groped around his nightstand for his glasses and, once he could see, rummaged around for some pyjama pants. Tiptoeing out his room, he immediately headed for the main room of number twelve, Grimmauld Place, desperately hoping that there was no one lounging about by his Christmas tree.

He cringed when he knocked an empty Butterbeer bottle down the stairs, but no one stirred. Remembering to avoid the creaky floorboard outside the living room, he peered in—and let out a sigh of relief. No Luna.

He was about to head to the kitchen for the Sober Up potion when someone let out a loud snore.

Harry's stomach clenched and he thought he might be sick again, but he shored up his courage and entered the room. Now he noticed someone's feet peeking out from beneath his tree, someone feminine: the toenails were painted a bright purple. Tiptoeing closer, Harry bent down to see who the feet belonged to. He followed the line of her body up, up, up—all the way to the head of festive red and green hair.

Tonks.

Harry felt something shift inside of him; it was akin to the tumblers of a lock falling into place. Instantly his stomach settled and his trepidation about last night's dream fell away. He was here and so was Tonks and everything would be alright.

Harry nudged her foot and whispered, "Tonks. Tonks, wake up."

Sleepily she rolled to her side and slowly opened her eyes. The smile that lit her face when she saw him made him feel warm and tingly inside. "Hey, Potter. Did you pass out under the tree too?"

Harry chuckled. "No. I made it to my bed." Her smile fell and Harry immediately felt the need to elaborate: "Alone, that is. I—I slept alone." It seemed important that she know that.

Her smile was back and even bigger than before. Wriggling out from under the tree, Tonks sat up and crossed her legs. "Don't suppose you have any magic hangover potion?" she asked groggily.

Harry Accio'd the bottles from the kitchen and they clinked the vials together before knocking them back.

"That's better," Tonks sighed.

"Yeah, it is," Harry agreed, unable to wipe the smile off his face. "So, um, are you...that is, you slept on the floor all night. Do you need a hot shower or anything?"

He was surprised and a little offended when Tonks laughed. "Take all the girls back to your shower, hmm, Potter?" she teased him.

Harry felt his face flush but he maintained eye contact with her. "I've been told I'm very good in the shower," he answered. This was new territory for them—he couldn't remember overtly flirting with Tonks before, although they had always got along and teased each other mercilessly at work.

Tonks had turned very serious. "I'll have to judge for myself sometime, then," she replied.

Harry felt his heart rate speed up. He heard Luna's voice in his head telling him to pay attention, learn how to love, and to remember what he'd seen the night before. Whether it had been real or not, he wasn't sure; but he damn well wasn't going to miss out on something potentially amazing just because he couldn't know if the lesson had been real or not.

So he scooted closer to where she was sitting, leaned forward, and kissed her. Tonks immediately melted against his chest, fisting her hands in his hair and kissing him back as passionately as she did everything else in life. Harry let his hands roam over her shoulders, her arms, her back; with a gentle tug, she had laid down and brought him down on top of her.

"Merry Christmas to me," she murmured, letting her hands run down the bare skin of his back. Harry went back to kissing her, their tongues swirling around each other's and their hands everywhere. Before long Tonks was shoving at his waistband, so Harry sat up and pulled her up with him. He yanked her shirt off over her head, thanking Merlin and every other deity that she wasn't wearing a bra.

He cupped her breasts and said "No, the merry is all mine," which didn't make much sense but Tonks seemed to understand because she kissed him sweetly before standing up and shimmying out of her trousers.

"We can go back to my room," Harry offered, but Tonks shook her head and gave him a look.

"Have you ever done it in public?" she asked, stripping off her knickers and tossing them over her shoulder.

Harry could only shake his head; he was incapable of forming words.

Tonks looked victorious. "Well, Potter, let me be your first." She hauled him to his feet and shoved his pyjama pants down the rest of the way. "Don't worry, everyone else is still knocked out," she whispered into his ear, and then she had wrapped a hand around his cock and started stroking.

He contemplated locking the door but in the end he simply tossed his wand off to the side and proceeded to squeeze and knead her breasts while she fondled him. When she shoved him backwards towards the sofa, he obliged, pulling her down to straddle his lap. This put her breasts right at face-level so of course he spent the next several minutes sucking and licking at her tits. He was rewarded by her grinding her pussy against his erection, and he nearly lost it. Twice.

Finally, finally she sank down on top of him, taking him in inch by torturous inch. When she was fully seated, she began to rock back and forth, driving Harry to the brink in a heartbeat.

"Tonks—you've got to slow down—"

"Yeah, funny thing about that, I don't really do slow," she panted. He watched, amused, as her hair turned from red and green to a pink that could only be described as sultry.

"Okay, but then you've got to tell me what I can do for you," he managed, trying to distract himself with Arithmantic equations in his head.

Tonks leaned forward, putting her mouth by his ear, and murmured, "You can spank me."

Harry closed his eyes, using all his willpower not to come right then and there. Tonks seemed to sense his hesitation because she grabbed his hands and placed them on her ass.

"Oh, and Harry? I like it hard," she added, right as she lifted herself up and then slammed back down on his cock. Harry groaned and thwacked her bare ass, loving the way it made Tonks moan in pleasure. He knew he couldn't take much more, so he whacked her again and she sped up, her movements becoming less controlled.

"Fuck, Tonks, I'm going to—oomph," he practically yelled, but Tonks had covered his mouth with her hand.

"Thought you didn't want an audience?" she asked, moving even faster on him now. "Of course, if you did, I'm game," she added, and Harry gripped her bum in his hands and came, hard, shouting her name. Tonks followed him almost immediately, grinding down on him and saying his name repeatedly.

In the aftermath, she slumped against his chest and he wrapped his arms around her waist. Eventually she lifted her head and grinned cheekily at him. "I can spank you next time if you want," she offered.

Harry grinned back at her. "Assuming there's a next time, are we?"

"Oh, yes. You owe me a trip to your shower, remember?"

Harry kissed her. "No time like the present," he said, helping her stand and then gathering their clothing. As they made their way quietly upstairs, Harry thought he saw a ghostly Luna peering around the corner at him and smiling, but he couldn't be sure.

Anyway, he had more important things to focus on.