Fic: Parabolic in Isolation (Charlie/Tonks)
To: snegurochka_lee
From: trinnifer


Title: Parabolic In Isolation
Author: trinnifer
Gift For: snegurochka_lee
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Charlie/Tonks
Summary: They'd said they were just messing around, but the novels she reads after curfew by wandlight say it's love, so maybe it is.
Warnings: Portions of this story contain sexual activity between consenting teens.
Author's notes: Hope you enjoy it!


"What do you mean you don't know?"



"Well, I've never - oh, do that again - never done this - "



"But you said - "



"I know what I said. Shut up."



"Tonks."



"Charlie." A pause. "Charlie..."



"What?"



"That. Again."



"This? Oh. Yes. God, Tonks."



Fumbling hands. Wetness, heat, fingers in places they've never been. Breath hot on skin, and his mouth, and she cries out in a voice she's never known herself to have. They experiment, explore; when she flicks a hesitant tongue over the tip of his cock he jumps and moans in this deep voice and her whole body flashes with electricity and she finds herself doing something her mother once told her nice girls never do. Time stands still until they finally, finally figure it out, move together and then time returns to normal speed plus a thousand and it's good, so good; she feels his breath on her neck and his hands digging into her shoulders and he moves and moves and says her name once and then collapses on her and she smiles. Strokes his hair. Closes her eyes and laughs.



*



They'd said they were just messing around, but the novels she reads after curfew by wandlight say it's love, so maybe it is. But she has dreams that go beyond husband and children, so she thinks break this fixation and does.



For a day.



Then the next day they are "experimenting" again, but when he comes, she swears she hears him say "love you," and suddenly there amidst her plans labeled Auror training and a place of one's own is another, a new one. Charlie Weasley. And maybe a husband and children doesn't sound so bad, after all.



*



Three years later and she stands in front of a caravan in a clearing on the edge of a forest in the middle of nowhere. Chilled to the bone, but not from the rain. All that love she'd felt and later confessed was still there, but buried under a layer of rage so deep it turned her hair a scarlet red and made her feel as thought she might burst into flames.



"So good, feels so fucking good."



A high-pitched moan. "I'm so hot...Charlie..."



But that's not her voice. It's not her in that caravan, and though she can't see she knows exactly what is happening. What that other woman feels, how his hands are digging into her hips so hard it hurts, how his cock fills her over and over as she rides him. She knows every buck of his hips and slide of her body over his. She can't see them but she can; she doesn't know if the woman inside is blonde or brunette or maybe pink-haired like she is but she connects every sound they make to the remnants of her own memories and knows down to the smallest detail what is going on.



Tonks steps forward. Curiosity and bitter resentment get the better of her now and she has to know, has to listen and know if he's fucking this nameless, faceless woman as good as he ever fucked her. Their gasps and moans mingle and float on the air to her ears, a chorus of "fuck yeah," and "oh, shit" and she wonders if the other woman knew before how vulgar Charlie gets when he gets off.



She never did. Never minded his fragmented whispers about how wet she was, how hard his cock, how close he was. She listens for them now. She knows she shouldn't. Her knees are weak and her skin hot and she can picture what he looks like, sees with frightening clarity the flush of his skin red against freckles, the dark blue his eyes only get when he's on the edge of release. She feels him swell inside her and that's it, she gives up entirely, presses her back to the wall of the caravan and slides her hand into her damp jeans and fingers herself as she listens to him gasp and swear and come. "Fuck, oh fuck, oh yes;" she thinks it as he says it and feels herself break at the moment she knows he breaks, too.



Gasping, she slides down the wall to a crouch. Thinks with stinging satisfaction that she didn't hear the woman come. Small victories.



Then there is movement in the caravan, and Tonks comes to her senses and realises what she's just done, how utterly pathetic a thing. The rain hits her face as cold as her tears are hot, running to the Apparition point because she has to get away, away from the shame and hurt.



Away from Charlie.



Break this fixation. Only she can't.



*



Tonks isn't sure what to do with herself now. Things have fallen apart, and not in a romantic Muggle cinema way like she'd always pictured these things would be. She alternated between throwing herself into her work and throwing herself and anything young, male, and (mostly) single.



It doesn't work.



The good news is she doesn't make any more surprise visits to Romania. The bad news is she wants to.



Break this fixation, she thinks. Then one day, it works. She wakes up smiling.



*



The next day, Charlie shows up at an Order meeting. Break this fixation, she thinks again, but when she finds herself after the meeting bent over a table and practically screaming as he drives into her so hard she thinks she might shatter, it occurs to her that maybe some things just can't be broken.



*



It becomes a pattern. Once a month, once a week, until she decides that if she can't have him her way, she'll take him any way she can. The sex is good, at least.



Then one day, he stops. She doesn't see him for two weeks.



Break this fixation.



She doesn't ask why he left.



Break this fixation.



She doesn't go looking for him.



Break this fixation.



She doesn't care.



Break this



Broken.



**