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Honks one-shot #2 (no smut): Knockturn Alley Stories
🕑 Added 2024-08-31 12:41:10 +0000 UTC“Hey there, Harry! Got some dragonhide boots! Wanna check them out? Only cost you a galleon a pair.”
Harry whistled as he stopped to inspect the collection of boots arrayed atop the dusty, frayed old carpet.
He had to give it to old Mick. If it wasn't for all the scuff marks, how worn they looked, and the fact that he could visually tell they wouldn't hold up under anything stronger than a tickling charm, he would have really believed they were dragonhide.
“Be honest here Mick-” Harry casually picked up one of the boots for closer inspection, ignoring the avalanche of curses that sprung from the humpback's mouth, “This is hippogriff hide, isn't it? No, wait… actually, it's mooncalf, and low quality too.”
Mick snatched the boot from Harry's hand, conveying as venomous a glare as he could manage with his one remaining eye as he placed the boot back on the carpet.
“Fuck off!”
Harry snorted. “Just saying, man, not your best work. You'll need a really strong confundus charm to make anyone believe that's dragon hide.”
Mick picked up his wand from the floor, a gnarled, chipped old thing with a bit of the dragon heartstring sticking out. “Luckily for me, I'm a deft hand.”
Harry shrugged, reaching out to give the man a slap on the shoulder. “Good luck with that, mate, I have to run.”
Harry left the old man grumbling and rearranging his wares, muttering about whether a cosmetic charm would shore up some of the shoddy detailing.
Harry continued along the dirty cobblestone streets. As he passed by worn down old store fronts in different stages of disrepair, he smiled and nodded at the usual cast of characters that always hung around during these early morning walks.
“Ladies!” Harry tipped his head towards the gaggle of hags that stood around one particular storefront, each of them palming a handful of eyeballs or dessicated animal carcasses. The group cackled at him, one of them holding up a shrunken human head and pointing at it.
“Maybe next time.” Harry begged off as he never broke his stride.
He drew closer to his flat, a humble little studio with a small balcony on the second floor of a building, directly above a very popular werewolf bar. The place was extremely raucous during night-time but an absolute ghost town during the day, which fit in perfectly with Harry's sleep patterns.
He'd had a long night, and he really needed to get some shut-eye. But it seemed that there was one final obstacle between himself and the land of dreams.
Harry was relatively tall, about six foot one, and decently muscular. This man absolutely dwarfed him in both regards, standing near six-foot-nine and carrying a veritable mountain of muscle, with a protruding belly that bore the thinnest layer of fat over rock-solid muscle. He was shirtless, as always, proudly displaying the many deep scars that criss-crossed his body, chief among them a wide gash that split his belly in half and made it look as if it were about to burst, along with another over his right eye.
The brown-haired man growled as Harry approached.
“Fyodor.” Harry greeted. “I thought you weren't out for another month?”
Fyodor, the owner of the bar and Harry's landlord, had been shipped off for a cool six-months in Azkaban after he'd cracked a wizard's skull in over in Hogsmeade. The man had made a full recovery, but Fydor's status as a werewolf made him quite lucky to only get six months up north.
“Good behavior.” The man gruffed.
Harry snorted, knowing that what likely had happened was that Fyodor had finally managed to scrounge up enough galleons to grease the wheels at the DMLE.
“I thought people got skinny after a stint in Azkaban.” Harry said as he tried to brush past him, only to be stopped by a bear-like paw on his shoulder.
“Azkaban nothing. Russian prisons much worse. Five months rent, you owe me.”
Harry frowned as he ducked away from his grip. “I'll have it in a week or so.”
“You give it now.”
Harry's eyes narrowed. “You'll have to wait.”
Fyodor tensed. Harry's hand was mere inches from his wand. He didn't want to take down the massive werewolf, but he would if he had to.
Something passed in the man's eyes and he chuckled, bushy mustache bristling as his cheeks stretched into a smile. “Still scrappy, young wizard. I like. You have until end of week.”
“Sure.” Harry muttered as he walked past him and crossed the empty bar on his way up the stairs. All the while, Fyodor let out deep, belly laughs.
Harry sighed as he made his way upstairs, relaxing slightly when he felt his personal wards wash over him on the landing.
When you lived above a werewolf pub in the heart of Knockturn Alley, taking precautions with your things wasn't prudent, it was a necessity.
Not that he kept much of value in the tiny little room with the cramped shower and the rickety bed. With his skill and expertise, he could easily turn the room into something resembling a five star suite, but Harry was either a masochist who's internalized trauma made him think this was the best he deserved, or he didn't want Fyodor to notice his changes, kick him out and reap the benefits of the massively upgraded flat.
Harry vacillated between both excuses daily. He lay down on top of the hard, unforgiving mattress, finding his good spot, facing away from the window that was bathing the room in early morning light, and let his exhausted body slowly drift off into a numb slumber.
…
“My name is Alastor Moody, and I'm here because Amelia Bones, my boss and your boss, seems to think you lot have what it takes to become part of the last line of defense against the forces of darkness. You're here because you were arrogant enough to think you have what it takes to face what's out there, and over the coming months, I'm going to weed out every last one of you. I'm going to break you down and show you just how unprepared you are, I'm going to grind you into the dirt, I'm going to have you looking for desk jobs, I'm going to have you scared to even look at your wand. And for the select few of you that survive my tender mercies, I'm going to turn you into the most effective dark wizard catchers in the fuckin world.”
Tonks laughed to herself as she passed by the quad, where Moody was giving the fresh new recruits the same terrifying speech he'd given her and her classmates over three years prior. There was a lot of truth to it, from her initial class of twenty only three had made it through the rigorous, grueling program. Tonks herself had contemplated quitting multiple times throughout, and had hung on due to pure stubbornness more than anything else.
Now, though, it was a new day. A brand new class of fresh recruits were beginning their own three year cycle, and Tonks had just finished hers.
Today was her first day as a full-blown, honest to god, auror.
Junior auror. But still, she had the badge and everything.
She winked at old Moody, who ignored her as he continued to put the fear of god into the recruits. She walked into the office, weaving through a maze of desks that she'd become intimately familiar with over the years. She wondered which one would be hers.
It was around two in the afternoon, most desks were empty, but she greeted the few people she saw as she passed by.
As she drew nearer to the head auror's office, she saw a pair of familiar faces converging from different ends.
“Hey there Hestia! Baby cousin.”
She got the reaction she wanted from both. Hestia smiled and waved at her while Draco sneered and chose to ignore her.
Tonks smirked. She was very happy that her interactions with Draco would be greatly reduced now. Her ‘cousin’ was a pompous, entitled ass that would have washed out of the program a dozen times over if it wasn't for dear uncle Lucy's immense power and influence within the ministry.
“Hey there, Tonksie.” Hestia wrapped her arms around her in a quick hug before both women turned to walk into the office behind Malfoy, who had power-walked his way in and was already standing in front of Robard's desk.
Gaiwan Robards perpetually looked as if he was annoyed by their mere presence. Now that they were no longer under Moody's rigid but fair eye, they were now subject to the whims of the career bureaucrat that had never truly earned his stripes in the field.
“Auror Tonks. Auror Jones. Auror Malfoy.” None of them missed the way his dismissive tone vanished the moment he spoke that final name, and while Draco didn't shoot them a smug look, the way his lips curled upwards was obvious for all to see.
“Once again, let me congratulate you on graduating from the auror program. It's a long, rigorous process, and you should be very proud of yourselves.” He opened the binder he held in front of him. “Now, it's time to test yourselves out in the world. Save for extenuating circumstances, you'll be on your first assignment for the next six months. At the end of that period, we will rotate you to a different assignment. At the end of year two, you will have settled into your rotation for the next decade, depending on what particular talents you display.”
He cleared his throat. “Now then. Auror Jones, you are to report to auror Shacklebolt from now on. You are on protection and security.”
Hestia gave a firm nod. “Yes sir.”
She turned around, and Tonks offered her a smile of encouragement. Security was a really good gig, and Tonks was happy for her friend.
Once Hestia had swept out of the room, Robards continued. “Auror Malfoy. You will join the ‘Shadow’ special task force. I do not need to tell you how prestigious such a placing is. You will report to Auror Hopper.”
Tonks was forced to snap her jaw shut as Draco turned around and sent his older cousin the smuggest, most pompous smirk he could muster. A junior auror being assigned to a special task force wasn't just unprecedented, it was damn near criminal. Draco and his father had clearly pulled some strings, and Robards had been all but happy to bend over for a couple galleons.
“Good luck, Nymphadora.” Draco whispered on his way out the door. Tonks clenched her fists but kept her composure as Gaiwan cleared his throat once again. “Auror Tonks, you are to report to auror Smith… you're on Knockturn patrol, overnights.”
She heard Draco's derisive snort. It seemed the ponce had lingered over the doorway. Tonks refused to move her head, refused to let him see how he'd gotten under skin. Not that that diminished the satisfaction the bastard likely felt, because there was no way this little assignment wasn't his doing.
“Got it. Good day, sir.” Tonks bowed her head and spun around, marching stiffly out of the office.
Draco had waited around for her.
“Excited for your special assignment, cousin?”
Tonks’ eye twitched. “At some point, Draco, daddy's money won't be able to protect you.”
Draco snorted. “Words of a commoner. I'm just showing you your proper place, half-blood. You know, as Lord Black, I could reinstate you and your blood traitor mother into the family, but I would never sully such an ancient and noble house with someone of your ilk.”
Tonks acted as if she were about to faint. “Oh no! I don't get to live in a moth-bitten old manor with a bunch of house elf heads mounted on the wall. How will I ever survive?!”
Draco clicked his tongue. “You'll see, cousin. No matter what the muggle-lovers say, blood counts for everything, especially here at the ministry. In a few years, I'll be on my way to head auror. You on the other hand…” he waved his hand dismissively.
“Fuck off.” Tonks snapped, tired of this little game. She picked up the pace as she made for the exit. Night shift didn't start until ten in the evening, which gave her a few more hours to laze around in her apartment and forget all about Draco and his bullshit.
…
When Harry awoke, the sun was already setting. He'd slept over twelve hours again. He stretched and yawned as he got his customary view of the orange sun setting over the worn wood and tin roofs of Knockturn Alley. The much cleaner, newer roofs of Diagon Alley were also visible in the distance.
Times like these, Harry heavily considered whether he should just get turned into a vampire. He already slept most days and was very active at night.
He had plenty of vampire friends who had offered to turn him, but losing his magic was a dealbreaker. Vampires did have their own brand of magic, but it was too limited in scope for Harry's taste. Plus, having such glaring weaknesses as sunlight and stakes through the heart were non-starters.
After brushing his teeth and taking a quick shower, Harry dressed, grabbed his ebony wand and made his way downstairs.
The bar wasn't empty, but it was still sparsely occupied, with a trio of goblins exchanging harsh whispers at a faraway table and a giant of a man nursing a drink at the bar, head in his palms.
Rubeus Hagrid. Not a regular, but there wasn't a pub the man didn't like. Not wishing to strike up a conversation, Harry slipped by him and Fyodor as he made his way out the door.
Knockturn Alley was always liveliest at night. Shadowy figures peddled wares that ranged from ineffective to highly perilous. Dark nooks housed sinister groups plotting arcane rituals. Dried animal blood on the floor belayed the rituals that had already taken place.
He passed by a cursed blade shop and a boarded up storefront that housed a thriving creature smuggling ring. He spared a glance to that old, towering Knockturn institution, the classiest spot of the bunch, Borgin and Burkes.
Harry had had many dealings with old man Borgin. Not that Borgin knew it was him, of course.
Soon, the alleyways became less narrow, none of the street lamps were broken and the light they gave off was much brighter. The cobblestone was new, and the voices around him were merry. Happy, even.
Harry wrapped his cloak tighter around himself. He never did feel fully comfortable in Diagon Alley. He found judgment in everyone's gaze. Even though he knew it was all in his head, even though he knew that the boy named Harry Potter had been all but forgotten by the wizarding world at large. When he was out here, the scars still felt fresh.
Harry reached the apparition point and twisted in place, disappearing from the alley with a clean pop.
…
Crates. Large wooden crates, at least twelve of them.
Theodore Nott felt almost delirious with excitement. If not for his pureblood upbringing, he was sure he'd be hopping, skipping, twirling and dancing all over this magically expanded tent.
The other man, a stout Bulgarian who went simply by Boyan, smirked smugly at him. “I tell you, good quality, very many.”
Nott shook his head as he peeked his nose over one of the crates. Inside were several dozen sets of dragon-hide boots. Some were a dark brown while others were jet black. All had textures that he swore he could feel just by looking at them, and they were all of unmatched quality. This did not originate from those weak, blind juvenile dragons that the goblins liked to farm. No, this was real, quality hide from massive, adult dragons.
He almost came in his pants as he swept his eyes over the other crates. Vests, shoulder guards, wand holsters, trousers. All of a quality that far exceeded anything to be found in England, and at a price that was almost criminal.
Nott snorted. Actually, it was criminal.
“Do you have gold?” Boyan asked as his men, two equally burly eastern europeans, gathered up behind him. Crabbe and Goyle closed ranks behind him. Nott reached a hand out and Goyle handed him a hefty money pouch. Five hundred galleons, a king's ransom for many, but a pittance to pay for something he could flip for ten times the price.
“Here you are.” He tossed the pouch over and Boyan caught it, bouncing it around in his hand as if that would help him count the money. He waved his wand over it, and whatever spell he used must have given him an accurate tally, because the man smiled in satisfaction.
“Pleasure doing business.”
“Pleasure's all mine. If you have any other deals like this, I'll happily set up another meeting.” Nott said as he nodded towards Crabbe and Goyle, who began to levitate individual crates. They would separate them into several bottomless bags for transportation.
One of Boyan's men grunted. “Business in Britain risky, no? With Shadow about.”
Nott scoffed. “You've been taken in by that fairy tale? The Shadow is nothing more than a media fabrication, a figment of Rita Skeeter's imagination used to sell newspapers.”
The thick-browed man nodded sagely, as if he were contemplating Theodore's words.
“Figment. Interesting. Can a figment do this?”
The man pulled at his face, which came off like a rubber mask, along with the entire rest of his body. As Nott stood there in shock and the Bulgarians jumped away, the flesh suit was tossed off, and a dark figure was left in its place.
No one had ever taken a photograph of the man, and pensieve memories had only ever been submitted to the DMLE. Now that he saw him, though, Nott understood why he'd been dubbed the Shadow.
It was a tall, almost shapeless mass in the form of a person. There were no features to discern, only a black outline, a literal walking, talking shadow stood before them.
They all reached for their wands, but the figure moved his hand up faster, showing a multitude of strings tied to a ring around his finger.
He flexed his finger and tugged at the strings. Their wands went flying towards him, having somehow been tied up without their knowledge. Left off balance, Crabbe and Goyle toppled over.
Nott instantly went for the ankle holster where he kept his second wand, only for a blur of red magic to strike both his wrist and his ankle, breaking them both as he was sent flying onto the wall.
The same had happened to Boyan and his man. In the blink of an eye, all of the men were tied up against the walls of the tent.
“Kreten!” Boyan cursed while Theodore tried in vain to budge from his uncomfortable position, bent over sideways with his broken wrist over his broken ankle.
“You fucking scoundrel! Do you have any idea who I am?!” Theodore yelled.
The Shadow chuckled. “Scoundrel? You need to step it up with the insults, Theo.”
“You think some pretty charms work is going to scare us?” Crabbe spat at the walking void that was standing in the middle of the room. “We're gonna tear that disguise off you and then fuck you up!”
“Big talk for someone who was disarmed without firing a spell.” The void said. Theo tried to pinpoint the voice, which wasn't distorted, but it didn't remind him of anyone. The only thing he could tell was that the person was not a foreigner.
“Thanks for the gold, by the way.” He jiggled Theo's sack of money. “And all the dragonhide too. I'll have to figure out what I wanna do with it.”
The men struggled and cursed, but there was nothing they could do to stop the Shadow. The man waved his wand, which was also papered over in a film of pitch-blackness, and the crates flew into one of the endless bags, the magic bending and contorting the wood as it disappeared into a knapsack.
In minutes, his work was done. The shadow gave a deep bow in the center of the room before he took the bags and backed up into a wall, fading away without making a single sound.
…
“Auror Tonks… does your father work in Games and Sports?”
Tonks shook her head. “My dad's a litigator, in the muggle world.”
Smith frowned. “He's a wizard though, right?”
“He is.”
“Why would he work in the muggle world?”
Tonks shrugged irritably. “I don't know, ask him.”
Auror Smith was a very old man, old enough that Tonks wondered what the hell he had done to get around the mandatory retirement age. He was thin and looked very frail, and while there might have been a chance that he was secretly a badass, Tonks knew better.
Smith's story was infamous. He'd been in the department since before Tonks’ parents were in diapers, even longer than Moody. He'd never been a standout at anything, but at some point in the first few years in his career, he must have done something to royally piss off not just the head auror at the time, but the head of the DMLE as well.
No one knew what exactly it had been. People speculated, proposing everything from him sleeping with the DMLE director's wife to instigating a deadly daytime duel in the ministry atrium.
Whatever it had been, Smith had been parked on Knockturn patrol ever since as a form of punishment. That wasn't the outrageous part of the whole thing. No, the truly ludicrous part was that Smith had then stayed on over three decades and counting. Where anyone else would have quit and found another career, Smith was still doing the second worst job in the auror corp, day in and day out.
“Well, Auror Tonks, things are simple here.” Smith said. He was lounging by a small table in front of a tiny restaurant, with a plate of some strange sausage and green looking eggs next to a cup of cold tea. “You don't go too deep into Knockturn. You don't ask too many questions. As long as they don't make too much noise while you're on patrol, you never saw anything. If one of the bosses gets a broom up their ass, we come in and knock heads and rough some people up, otherwise, pull up a chair and have a drink.”
He offered her his tea, which had a strange lump floating around inside it.
“Fresh meat?” A hag with a large wart on her face walked out of the restaurant, leaning against the door frame as she inspected Tonks.
“Fresh out the academy, Betsy.” Smith said as he sipped his tea. “Her father's a wizard that works for muggles.”
Betsy raised an eyebrow. “Strange. Well, girl, what will you be having for dinner?”
Tonks took another glance at Smith's bizarre meal, not needing her stomach's protest to know her answer. “I'm fine. I ate at home.”
Betsy shrugged. “Suit yourself.” She walked back into the narrow restaurant.
Tonks coughed. “I think I'll go on patrol now, sir.”
Smith shrugged as he picked up the evening paper. “Sure. Just remember, don't go too deep.”
Tonks rolled her eyes as she turned around and marched away from her superior. She kept her hand near her wand as she walked deeper into the alley. The restaurant was near the entrance, the crossway of Diagon Alley was visibly close, and Tonks was wading confidently into the unknown.
As a kid, she'd been both curious and terrified of Knockturn. It was a mysterious place, but also the setting of all the terrible tales and horror stories of her childhood, as well as the star of the crime section of the Prophet. As she'd grown older, there had been a few moments of teenage rebellion where she and her friends had ventured right up to its entrance and taken a few, thrilling steps inside of the infamous alley, but she'd never gone further than that.
Children who got lost in Knockturn Alley disappeared forever, devoured by werewolves or turned into vampire thralls or killed by banshees. Or at least, that's what the stories said.
Now, though, she was all grown up and a full blown auror. She had nothing to fear from this place, and she would do the job she'd been trained for to the best of her abilities.
She tripped on something on the floor and stumbled forward, having to catch herself against a wall. She looked around in embarrassment, but the people around seemed to be giving her a wide berth. Tonks adjusted her dark red auror robes and continued walking, putting as much confidence in her stride as she could manage.
The deeper she got into Knockturn, the livelier it got. Narrow, empty corridors expanded out onto a large, circular patio sorrounded by storefronts of every variety. She passed by an apothecary that reeked something awful and was suspiciously close to a butcher's shop. There was a store advertising cursed items that she just barely restrained herself from walking into and ordering it condemned.
There were people all about. Witches, wizards, half breeds and magical creatures. She saw a banshee strolling hand in hand with a young wizard. A group of vampires were singing in the middle of the square while a woman swayed to the tune, holding the leash to what Tonks was certain was an illegal-to-own jackalope.
It was quite a sight to take in. She skirted around the edges of the scene, feeling as if she was intruding in something. As she passed by another alley, she caught sight of an old woman hobbling about with a cane.
Suddenly, a man ran by and snatched the woman's purse from her hand.
“Stop!” The woman yelled as she lost her balance and fell on her bum.
Tonks’ conditioning kicked in immediately. “Stop right there!” She yelled, her legs already kicking under her as she sprinted after him.
She fired off a stunner, but the man turned a corner and her spell crashed against the side of a building, blasting away the rotten wood.
Tonks grit her teeth as she concentrated on her powers. While being a metamorphmagus had many uses in stealth, it had some very underrated applications in other fields, like right now, where she lengthened her legs and expanded her muscles, becoming a world class sprinter as she closed the distance.
Of course, when she turned the corner, she was still clumsy old Tonks. She slid sideways and bumped her shoulder hard on the rotting wood. She fell in for a moment but righted herself, ignoring the splinters as she ran after her target.
In a straight line, she was hawking him down easily, and when she got inside a comfortable range, she rang off a simple tripping jynx directly in front of him.
It worked exactly as Moody had drilled it. The spell collided with the man's lead foot and he stumbled into a hard fall and a roll, crumpling to a heap in the middle of the narrow alleyway.
“Hah!” Tonks pumped her fist. This was her first small success as an auror. Her first foray out in the wild.
“Stealing that old lady's purse. I'm afraid I'm gonna have to take you in.” She summoned the man's wand before he could reach it. He was on his knees, and when he turned his head around to look at her, he was smirking.
“What're ya so smug about? You ol-”
Tonks felt the heat of the spell on her back and twisted around to dodge. It wasn't enough, and soon her wand was flying from her grasp as ropes wrapped around her arms, legs and torso.
At the end of the alley was the old lady whose purse had been snatched. She fixed Tonks with a cool, uncaring look as she deliberately stalked towards her.
It had been a setup.
“What do you think you're doing? I'm an auror!” Tonks struggled against her bonds, trying to will the ropes to tear.
“Yes, you are an auror. A new one.” The woman croaked as her accomplice came up behind Tonks and propped her up. “Do not worry, once we're done, you won't remember a thing.”
…
Harry whistled as he strolled through the lively streets. Knockturn at night was always a raucous scene, especially on the weekend.
“Hey there, handsome!” Selene, a five-hundred year old vampire and one of Harry's closests friends, waved at him. “Where did you slink off to this time?”
Harry shrugged as he came up on the group of three vampires. “Just around.”
“You're always just around, flesh-bag.” Said Marcus. He was a baby-vampire, the newest in Selene's brood, having been turned three years ago at the living age of forty.
Harry smirked. “I like to be mysterious like that.”
“We're going for a feed and some partying, if you're up for it. The night is young.” Selene said.
“Yeah, sure. I need to drop something off at my place, maybe freshen up, I'll meet you guys at the club.”
“Just don't come back stinking like those mutts.” Cassie, another of Selene's brood, said.
Harry gave her a mock salute. “I will do your bidding, my liege.”
The short-haired blonde bared her fangs at him. “Don't tempt me, Harry. I might just turn you into my personal thrall tonight.”
“Looking forward to it.” Harry said as he walked away and turned his back to them.
With his hands behind his back, he hopped atop a pile of crates and up some rickety scaffolding, until he'd reached the roof of the building.
This was his preferred method of navigating Knockturn Alley, with a bird's eye view, where all the alley's labyrinthine loops were laid bare to him.
He'd stashed away the treasure trove of dragon-hide and most of the gold in his special place. It was becoming a hoarder's paradise at this point, putting many an ancestral vault to shame, but there was nothing to it. Harry couldn't exactly put most of these things out on the street.
Besides, he reminded himself, he was doing this as an escape. He wasn't getting involved with anything.
He just needed to give Fyodor his stupid rent money, change into something more fashionable and then he'd be out to enjoy the night.
He was walking on automatic, eyes already locked onto his lonely balcony, right under witch he could feel the booming vibrations of the bar as it was jam-packed with werewolves. A pair were even tossing empty beer bottles at his window.
‘Jokes on you. I spelled it so the bottles will come back at you’
Before he could witness the fruits of his ward-work, some faint movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention.
It was a reflex. He spun around, eyes narrowing as he focused on one of the many back alleys that led to a dead end.
Lady Abernathy had found another victim, her and her son had someone tied up. Harry wasn't sure what exactly that woman did, but he knew it couldn't be pleasant. As he squinted, he noticed their victim, she was a young woman with bubblegum pink hair, a cute button nose and deep brown eyes that were wide with fear. Harry was already determined to intervene when another thing popped out at him.
The woman's robes. They were a deep red. No one wore those types of robes, except for…
Fucking idiot!
Harry cursed under his breath as he sprinted from rooftop to rooftop. The old bitch was going after an auror.
He took a big leap and did a roll in the air, landing with cat-like grace in front of Lady Abernathy, who hissed at him like a feral cat, mouth opening to show several rows of sharp teeth disappearing down to her throat.
Harry winced. He could have gone his whole life without seeing that.
Her son made a move, but Harry blasted him away, sending him flying up and over the roofs and into the adjacent alley.
“I suggest you go home and think about what you were planning on doing.” Harry said, holding his ground even as the woman's face morphed, mouth turning into a sharp beak and eyes turning golden.
“I'm hungrryyyyy!” Her voice turned shirll and distorted.
“Think about what'll happen to you if I tell everyone what you tried to do, and to whom.” Harry insisted calmly, wand pointed at her face. “You'll be hanging from a pole in the middle of the square.”
Her eyes narrowed, body shaking with frustration, but she turned around and stomped off without a word.
Harry stared after her, making sure she'd gone before letting out a breath. He glanced down at the girl, who looked more or less around his age, and waved his wand to sever her ropes.
She grunted as she scrambled back up to her feet, face red with anger, and Harry swore her pink hair had somehow turned dark red as well. “Why'd you let her go?!”
Harry curled an eyebrow. “That's a strange way of saying thanks.”
The girl spluttered, and Harry for sure saw her hair go from red to green to yellow and back to pink.
A Metamorphmagus.
“Thank you.” She muttered.
Harry smiled. “That wasn't so hard. Let me guess, first day?”
“Is it that obvious?”
“I mean, you're wearing those auror robes this deep into Knockturn, so yeah.” Harry said.
She sighed, patting herself down, “I just got assigned to here. Was on my very first patrol.”
Harry chortled, earning himself a glare from the witch. “Sorry, its just… well that's just rotten luck.”
“You're telling me?” She said. “What even was she?”
Harry shrugged. “No idea.” He said, letting his eyes lazily sweep over her form.
She was tall, and he could tell she had a nice figure under her robes. And her face was rather cute.
He shook those thoughts from his head. “What's your name… officer?”
She tilted her head to the side. “You can call me Auror Tonks.”
“No first name, auror Tonks?”
She made a face. “You can just call me Tonks… Auror Tonks.” She added hastily.
“Well, Auror Tonks, let me help you get back.”
His trip back to his flat abandoned, Harry gestured for her to follow him, which the pink-haired auror did after slight hesitation.
As they walked side by side, Tonks felt the adrenaline of the incident finally leave her, allowing her to get a good look at the man who had saved her.
He looked young. She couldn't pinpoint his age, but she doubted he was older than her. He was tall and well built, with a handsome face and inky black hair that seemed to dance in an invisible wind. His eyes were a deep bottle green, and the more she looked at them, the more they seemed to pierce through her.
Tonks averted her gaze, choosing to look forward. “What's your name?”
She could see him frowning out of the corner of her eye. He hesitated for a second before answering. “Harry Potter.”
. . .
“Am I supposed to know who you are?” She asked after a tense few seconds.
He snorted, and the tension popped like a balloon. “Not really, I guess. I just… if you check your auror files on me or whatever, I have a record.”
She rolled her eyes. “I figured.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “You figured?”
“I-I mean… no offense, but usually wizards don't hang around here unless they have one.”
Harry huffed. “That's not completely wrong, but its still a fucked up way of seeing things.”
Tonks waved her hands. “I didn't mean anything by it.”
Harry shot her sidelong glance. Best practice was always to stay away from aurors. Don't speak unless spoken to. But this one looked as if she didn't know her wand from her holster, and more than that, he felt an impetus, an animal magnetism that made him want to tell her a joke and make her smile.
Harry really should ignore that impulse, but he was giddy from earlier in the day, plus the night was young, and he felt like cutting loose.
“Tell me, auror Tonks, would you like me to help you get acclimated to Knockturn?”
“Aren't you supposed to hate the coppers?” She asked.
“You seem like one of the good ones.”
She snorted. “And how exactly will you help me?”
“First off.” He waved his wand over her.
“Hey!” Tonks jerked back, but she was too slow. As she looked down at herself, she saw her robes change to a plain black. “Maybe warn a girl next time!”
Harry smiled. “This will help you blend in better. Otherwise, you're just a giant walking landmine.”
“Maybe I want to be a landmine.”
They came out onto the square again, which had only grown livelier as the night deepened.
“Here, let me show you around.” He grabbed her by the wrist, and Tonks tensed for a moment before letting him lead her.
Harry showed her most of the major spots, offering bits and pieces of advice here and there.
“The dwarfs are the ones you gotta watch out for. Napoleon complex is real. Nine times out of ten, they're the ones that'll start a fight.” Harry said as he ruffled the hair of one dwarf as he passed by.
“Hey! You wanna fuckin go, mate?!” The dwarf yelled at him as he squared up.
“What did I tell you?” He told Tonks as she giggled.
“To me it seems like you're the real danger. Maybe I should bring you in.”
Harry's smirked. “As long as you're not too rough.”
Tonks flushed at the blatant flirting before quickly recovering. “What, you can't handle it?”
“Nope. I'd just be forced to defend myself.”
“Please, trained auror over here. I'd take you down.”
“You'd be surprised.” He said mysteriously.
They'd stopped in front of a tall stone building. The building was shaped like an inverted cross, thumping deep with house music, multi-color strobe lights flashing from inside. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry noticed Tonks tapping her foot.
“What's this place?” She asked as she craned her neck to stare up at the towering building.
“Bloody Rain. The hottest vampire nightclub in Britain. Wanna go in?”
She shot him an incredulous look. “Its a vampire club.”
Harry shrugged. “They don't bite.”
“I'm on the clock.”
“Believe me, going in there and getting to know a few of the locals will be much more constructive than stomping around random alleys waiting for crimes to happen.”
She looked at him with those brown eyes that - oh! They'd just turned a light violet! - and Harry stared back. She bit her lip, glancing around as if expecting her senior partner to show up and chastise her.
“Fine. I'll go in. Just to scope it out.”
Harry grinned as he pulled her by the arm. There was a bouncer by the door, but he just shared a nod with Harry as he pulled Tonks in.
The music was loud, the beat making the very floor thump to the rythm of the music. The place was packed, and Tonks could not tell who was a vampire or not as people danced and writhed against each other, losing themselves to the beat.
Well, those people the bar who were gulping down red liquid in martini glasses were certainly vampires.
Harry began to dance, and Tonks found herself in a losing battle to the sway of the music. She liked this kind of music, she'd enjoyed going to raves before auror training had killed her social life.
She found herself cutting loose, dancing in place as Harry danced around her. She shot him looks here and there as the young man cut a rug.
Moody would definitely not approve of this.
She reached out and grabbed his hand, and Harry danced his way towards her. They let their bodies go, Harry placed his hands at her hips and Tonks began to sway them from side to side.
She threw her hair back, having built up a light sweat but finding that she was grinning from ear to ear. She hadn't had this much fun in a while.
“Nice going there, Harry!” Someone yelled over the thrum of the music.
She glanced up to find three people standing in front of them. One was one of the most beautiful women she had ever seen, a tall, elegant woman with sleek black hair. She was also clearly a vampire. Next to her was a blonde with short hair and a middle aged man with brown hair. They were all dressed in tight leather, with lots of room for exposed skin.
“I thought you were going to change.” Cassie said.
“Got sidetracked.” Harry shrugged. “This is Tonks, by the way, she's an auror.”
“Auror. I see. Well, you'll find that this establishment is up to code.” Selene said.
“This music is great!” Tonks yelled over the music.
“Do you want drinks?” Marcus asked them.
“She's on the clock.” Harry said. “But I'll take one.”
When Marcus returned with his drink, Harry polished it off, the last of his inhibitions fading away.
He danced with Tonks, who looked completely at home now as she fully cut loose. Harry's friends danced with them, forming a little group, but for the most part, Harry found himself gravitating towards the auror.
She gravitated towards him, and soon their bodies were touching, her arms draped around his neck and Harry's hands around her waist.
…
“I can't believe I just did that!” Tonks exclaimed. She was drenched in sweat. It was five in the morning, still pitch dark, and they were walking out of the club.
“I just spent an entire shift at a club-”
“You were gathering intel.”
“I was raving at a vampire club! Oh, Merlin, I'm going to get fired for this.”
“You'll be fine, Tonks. Your partner just stays out by the entrance reading the paper and sleeping all night. As long as you report back to him in an hour, you'll be home free.”
Tonks exhaled. “I am so sweaty. I need a shower.”
“You can take one at my place.”
Tonks’ eyes went wide at his forwardness, but Harry acted non-chalant.
“You're going to get me in trouble.”
He shot her a winning smile. “Only as much trouble as you want to get into.”
Tonks bit her lip. She glanced at her watch, confirming that she did have an hour before she had to report back to Smith.
“Sure.”
Harry cringed as he opened the door to his room, now suddenly self counscious of just how ratty everything looked.
“Erm, the bathroom's over there.” He said, his confidence suddenly vanished.
He turned around to see Tonks standing by the doorway, eyes completely fixated on him.
She closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around his neck. Harry took in a sharp breath as her sweat filled aroma filled his nostrils, flaring up something primal within him.
His hands wrapped around her waist, much tighter this time, and his eyes closed automatically.
Her lips were on his, burning intensely as they fell onto the bed, and Harry's mind went blank.
Comments
Handyandy
Actually, on reflectoon it might serve to show how uncool and not hip Tonks is if you keep it as is? If that sounds like a good angle for this you could keep it
Handyandy
I think it'll work if you just cut it, but here's some alternatives "She shot him looks here and there as the young man cut a rug." As the young man moved to the beat As the young man danced like he just didn't care [this one even rhymes] As the young man swayed and gyrated on the dance floor As the young man was mesmerizing/mesmerized her
Lurk
Yeah I really wanted to change that on review but couldnt come up with anything so left it. I'll probably edit it out when it gets posted on ao3
Handyandy
"Cut a rug"? Lmao is Tonks 80 years old
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