Entry tags:

bill/tonks

FIC: Shelter From the Storm (Bill/Tonks)
To: SilverNatasha
From: Your Secret Santa

Title: Shelter From The Storm
Author: ragdoll
Pairing: Nymphadora Tonks/Bill Weasley
Summary: An assignment to track Death Eater activity in the middle of a freak winter storm leads to a very different discovery for Bill and Tonks.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Fluff, a/u, frottage
Author's notes: For silvernatasha who asked for a bit of fluff and angst in moderation and gave me permission to go as a/u as I needed to. Hopefully I managed to get the balance right for her! It's definitely on the vanilla side, but vanilla *is* a spice too! Happy Holidays, Natasha! Thanks as always to my betas and support people without whom…especially the divine Ks (both of them) and R.

This is set sometime after the end of Order of the Phoenix and the beginning of Half Blood Prince without any of that messy business involving Fleur or Remus.




"Headmaster, you wanted to see me?" Tonks had waited until the other Order members, save the Weasleys, had left the Burrow before approaching Dumbledore. She wasn't certain why he'd requested she stay after to speak with him. It felt a bit like being called up to the Headmaster's office for yet another detention, an experience she was far too familiar with in her past.

Dumbledore replied with a slight nod of the head, his long fingers steepled in front of him. "Yes, Tonks. I did. No, you're not in any sort of trouble. Quite the opposite." He flashed her a reassuring smile, then added, "And please, call me 'Albus'. You're not in school any longer, my dear. You're an equal member of the Order and there's absolutely no need to stand on ceremony."

"Yes, Hea—erm, Albus." It still felt awkward for her to refer to the old man by his first name, as if they were mates or something.

"Much better." He stroked his beard in thought before continuing. "There has been some information leading me to believe that the Death Eaters will be holding some sort of conclave somewhere up north within the next few days."

"North? How far north?"

"Northern Scotland. You know the Dark Lord prefers to meet in remote places in order to avoid detection. Even though his handiwork," Dumbledore let out a sigh, "is anything but subtle. In any event, I need someone I trust implicitly to find them and, if possible, gather some intelligence as to what they are planning next."

"And you're telling me this because…?"

"I want you to be that someone, Nymphadora." He looked at her over his half-moon spectacles, his expression grave.

"But—"

He cut her off before she could utter another word. "You're an Auror, Nymphadora. You have the skills necessary to do what's needed. Kingsley's working for the Muggle Prime Minister and cannot be spared at the moment. Remus is well ensconced with the werewolves and I need Alastor here. You are the only one I believe can do this."

"I failed Tracking and Stealth," she blurted. "I'm pants at—"

Dumbledore shook his head, suddenly looking very weary. "I suppose you're right, my dear. I should send someone else, shouldn't I? I know how hard Sirius's death has affected you."

Tonks felt her eyes welling up at the mere mention of her cousin's name. It hurt to know that he was gone, especially when she'd been unable to stop Bellatrix in any way. The experience had been traumatic, even causing her Metamorphmagus talents to become erratic, making it difficult, if not impossible, to change her hair colour or her looks for days on end. She hated the fact that she was unable to be as battle-hardened as some of her colleagues, or that they saw her as weak and ineffectual. Snape had voiced that opinion with regularity, and she suspected several of their compatriots felt the same, even if they were too polite to say it to her face.

"You're still recovering the injuries inflicted upon you by your aunt." His blue eyes flickered over her, registering his concern. "You've only been out of hospital for a few weeks -- perhaps you're right. You aren’t fit for this sort of assignment. I'll speak with Alastor and see what he can…"

"No!" Tonks exclaimed, then clapped her hand over her mouth, looking at him sheepishly. "I mean...of course I'll do it." She thought she detected a crafty glint in the old man's eye, as if he'd won a particularly difficult game of Wizard chess.

"Are you certain, my dear?"

Chewing on her lower lip, she nodded in assent. "When do you want me to leave?"

"Tomorrow. However, I would not dream of sending you alone. It's too dangerous for anyone to be working on their own. Bill Weasley will go along with you. I'm confident that he can compensate for any holes in your training," Dumbledore leaned over and patted her hand. "It would be safer for you to have a partner in any event. The mission won't be without peril although, if our sources are correct, Lord Voldemort will not be in attendance. Just some of his lieutenants. Still, any information gleaned would be advantageous."

"Bill, eh?" That wasn't bad news. She'd known Bill – and the rest of his family –for most of her life, and they'd always been friendly, other than a brief tenure during their time at Hogwarts together when she had been the bane of his existence. The then rules-bound Head Boy had been tormented into apoplexy by the adolescent Tonks who'd never met a rule she didn't want break at least once. At the time, he'd said she was worse than a Cruciatus curse. Happily, they'd both grown up and out of that phase, resuming their friendship when they'd met again within the Order. There were few people she'd want to watch her back more than Bill. Of course, there were times when she wished he'd watch other bits of her besides her back, but she'd long since resigned herself to the fact that they were destined to be friends and friends only, that she would never been in the same league as his romantic conquests.

"Will that be a problem?" asked Dumbledore.

"No. Not in the least. I wouldn't want anyone else with me, truth be told. He's a top bloke, good in a fight, thinks on his feet."

"Very well, then. I'll brief you on all the pertinent details."

* * *

The northern tip of Scotland was cold, bitterly cold. Tonks had never felt cold like this before; it seeped into her bones even through layers of clothing, gloves, boots and a cloak with extra warming spells worked into it. She and Bill suspected the weather was being magically manipulated; it was the only explanation for the freakish cold. There had been moments when she'd wondered if she and Bill would be sent back to London having lost their extremities or their noses to frostbite. She supposed that eventuality would please Mad-Eye to no end.

They'd been on the road for two days, following the presumed trail of several Death Eaters, trying to discover their quarry's final destination without being caught. They'd stuck to the outskirts of the towns, avoiding Muggles and their fellow wizards alike, only interacting with others when Tonks went into dodgy pubs and watering holes sporting a new face in order to gather information, Bill nearby, hidden under an invisibility cloak beside her. It had been a relief to discover that her Metamorphmagus abilities were working properly again. The last thing Tonks wanted to do was let the Order down any further.

But, now they were in the wilderness, away from any civilization at all. Tonks was beginning to wonder if the Death Eaters were planning on holding their gathering out on some rocks in the centre of the North Sea amidst a colony of seals. It was growing dark, the wind was picking up and it had begun to snow, making it near impossible to see and the narrow, icy paths they travelled on even more treacherous.

They had used a tent borrowed from Arthur's boss, Perkins, for shelter the past few nights. However, here in the middle of an icy nowhere, it would have been impossible to pitch the tent, let alone hope it went unnoticed. Still, they needed refuge and needed it soon, before they froze to death. To make matters worse, they now had to keep all magic use down to a minimum for fear of being detected by their enemies.

Tonks decided someone had smiled upon them when they stumbled across a deserted cabin at the edges of a barren woods, in Tonks' case, literally. She'd tripped on a snow-covered rock, ending up sprawled face first in the snow, only to look up and see the dilapidated building in the distance. Bill rushed to her side, helping Tonks to her feet, one arm around her waist to keep her steady as he led her towards the building, moving cautiously.

A quick look through the dirt-streaked windows proved it was uninhabited, the building's condition leading them to believe it had been quite a long time since it had seen any occupants other than, perhaps, the four or six-legged kind. The windows were locked, a rusty padlock on the worn wooden door, the stairs leading up to it rotted and broken.

"Think we ought to chance it?" Bill asked, double-checking for any signs of inhabitants.

Tonks nodded, shivering in the bitter cold air. She was on the brink of exhaustion, and colder than before thanks to the snow sticking to her hair and her face as well as leaching through her clothes where she'd fallen. "At this point, I'm so shattered, I don't give a toss if it's the winter holiday home of You-Know-Who himself. S'got to be better than turning into ice lollies out here, innit?"

Bill grinned at her, his long nose red with cold, his breath frosting. "Remind me again why I left Egypt? What I wouldn't do for a bit of sun right now…" He tried the lock, jiggling it but the rusted metal remained in place.

"Well, the official story is that you decided to live up to that bloody Gryffindor creed about being brave and joined up with a resistance movement," Tonks said, keeping her voice low just in case anyone was listening, although it seemed highly unlikely.

"And the unofficial version?" Bill fumbled beneath his cloak, pulling out what looked like a long, straight metal pin. He inserted it into the lock gingerly. "Hmm, let's see if I can manage this without magic."

"As long as it doesn't take hours – I can barely feel my toes." Tonks watched him with interest as he wiggled the pin back and forth. " If your brothers and sister are to be believed, it had something to do with a girl. A French Veela one."

He responded with a snort, continuing to twist the pin until there was a 'click'. The lock slid off and into his hand. Bill preened, dangling the now-opened lock on his gloved finger triumphantly. "That just proves how little that lot knows. The real truth's much closer to the first one, thank you very much."

That was hardly the answer she'd expected from him. "Oh?" she tried to sound nonchalant. Bill's love life was none of her business, but in all the time she'd known him, he'd always had some beautiful bird or other on his arm. Of course, Tonks had fancied him herself for years – every girl fancied Bill Weasley -- but she was realistic about it. She reckoned she had about as much chance of attracting Bill's attention as a romantic partner as Hagrid did.

"Fleur's a nice girl," Bill replied, turning around to tweak her nose playfully. "And very pretty, but she's also very young and a bit too possessive for me, truth be known." He shrugged, then pocketed the lock, before taking out his wand. "It's easier to let my family – especially my brothers -- think I've pulled a Veela. Well, I did pull a Veela. Just didn't keep her. It does give a bloke a certain amount of prestige, though, doesn't it?"

Tonks rolled her eyes at him, her lips clamped together to keep from responding with any further retorts. She reached for her own wand, holding it in a defensive position, then gave him a nod, indicating he should open the door.

Bill complied, pushing down the latch, and gave the door a quick push. The rusted hinges creaked loudly as the door swung open, revealing a grimy single room behind it. He took a wary step inside, then another one, before waving his arm, urging her to follow.

It took a few minutes for Tonks' eyes to adjust to the room, barely lit by the fading light coming in through battered and broken shutters. Judging from the thick layers of dust which coated everything, it was obvious no one had been here in a very long time. Still, it was somewhat warmer than outside, and would provide a suitable shelter from the icy winds and driving snow. She followed Bill further into the cabin, allowing him to bolt the door from the inside as she shrugged off her heavy rucksack, searching for some candles and the Muggle lighter her father had given her before leaving.

Peeling off her gloves, Tonks tried to work the lighter with her cold and cramped fingers. Sparks shot out of the top as she repeatedly pressed down on the cold metal wheel, but it refused to catch. It slipped from her fingers, clattering to the ground. "Bugger all, why doesn't this sodding thing work?" she growled, bending over to retrieve it. "How can these Muggles do anything with their bloody tekronology?"

"Here," Bill said gently, putting his hand on hers. It felt warm against her own icy skin. "Give us a look. Perhaps I can get it to work?"

"Knock yourself out, mate," Tonks muttered, suddenly aware of how tired and hungry she was.

Bill gave the lighter a few tentative strikes before a flame appeared. "There you go. Now, where are those candles?"

Scowling, Tonks held one out to him. "Bloody show off."

"Nah," he replied, smiling good-naturedly. "I've just used one before. Muggle things can come in dead handy in the middle of tombs, especially when even using common spells are likely to set off some ancient Pharaoh's curse."

"Like I said, you're a bloody show off, Weasley," Tonks repeated, although she was now smiling back.

* * *

The candles were lit, allowing the pair to examine the interior of the cabin more easily. It didn't take long; the cabin wasn't very large, just one room with an adjacent bathroom off the main living space. Surprisingly, the plumbing still worked, although only icy brown water flowed from the taps, the pipes creaking and moaning as loudly as any household ghoul. The cupboards were bare other than some broken, chipped dishes and some empty cardboard boxes which had been thoroughly chewed by mice. There was no cooker or central heating, only a large stone fireplace covered in cobwebs and dust, although there was enough wood piled up next to it to last through the night, if not longer. The furnishings were sparse: a pair of dusty, worn arm chairs, a wobbly table and a beat up dresser.

"There's a bed." Tonks pulled back a moth-eaten curtain, jutting her chin in the direction of a rickety looking wooden bed frame covered with a soiled, lumpy mattress. "Reckon it could hold our weight?" She went towards it, contemplating her own question then stopped in her tracks as she heard a squeak followed by some scuttling. She forced down a shriek, not wanting to seem cowardly in front of Bill.

Bill had heard the noise too. He laid his hand on her shoulder, squeezing it in reassurance. "We-ell, I was going to suggest taking the mattress and putting it on the floor but…"

Tonks shuddered. "P'raps we ought to let them keep it for themselves?"

Bill's gaze flickered to the cold stone floor, and then back to the bed as he peered at it in the half-light of the room. "I'd rather we be a bit more comfortable than that." He reached into his boot for his wand, drawing it out slowly.

"You can't! We shouldn't use any more magic—" she started.

"Blimey, Tonks, I thought you were supposed to be one who broke the rules, not me," Bill snorted. "For what it's worth, I highly doubt there are any Death Eaters skulking about outside freezing their bollocks off in the midst of a blizzard. Besides, any residual magic will have dissipated by the time anyone comes round to check." There was more rustling and squeaks from the vicinity of the bed. "Unless you really fancy cuddling with whatever's making that racket…"

"Percy and Ron might've enjoyed sleeping with rats, but I'd rather not if it's all the same to you, mate." She shuddered again at the thought.

"Right." Bill took a step away from her. "Eximo vermin." There was a flare of warm golden light. It briefly filled the room, accompanied by skittering and squeaking from whatever had been inhabiting the mattress, as well as the rest of the cabin, as they fled in terror. And then it was silent. Bill chuckled, looking extremely pleased with himself. "They won't be coming back any time soon. Another little trick I learnt in Egypt. It's a bugger waking up to scorpions in your boots or scarab beetles in your pants."

"Beetles in your pants? Some blokes might pay good money for that sort of thing, you know," Tonks quipped, thoroughly relieved that he'd taken care of the problem so easily.

Bill raised his eyebrows, smirking at her. "They might, if they weren't already spending their pay on getting other things in there first."

"I find it hard to believe you've ever needed to spend even a single Knut for that."

She was surprised to see a slow burn of scarlet flushing Bill's cheeks, visible even in the dim light from the candles. He opened his mouth to say something, then shut it again as if he'd thought better of it.

"Why, Bill Weasley, I'm gobsmacked," Tonks said, feigning astonishment. "Whatever would your mum say?"

"My mother," Bill countered, "had better not say anything about it. She still thinks I'm her innocent little boy in short robes." He pulled a face. "The less she knows about my sex life, the better. Why're you suddenly so interested in it?"

This time, it was Tonks' turn to blush. "You're the one who brought the subject up," she reminded him. "Not my business if you're the sort of bloke who consorts with tarts, is it?"

"I don't 'consort' with them!" Bill insisted, looking flustered, his ears now as crimson as his cheeks, and not just from the cold. "I'm just a red-blooded man who likes women. And when you're in an exotic place, you don't turn down the local talent, do you? Going to a brothel, it's like a rite of passage with your mates." He let out a 'whuff' of frustration. "I really don't know why I need to justify anything to you at any rate."

"Neither do I. It's no skin off my nose, mate." Tonks suppressed a grin. It was obvious she'd wound him up yet again; somehow, it was immensely gratifying to know she could still get a rise out of him after all these years.

Miffed, Bill turned his attention towards the fireplace, suddenly making a show of opening the flue and clearing it out by hand. He piled up kindling and a few small logs in preparation for an actual fire. Reaching for a lit candle, he touched it to the edge of some twigs, watched carefully as they began to smoulder, then burst into flames. The rest of the wood caught and soon there was a small but cozy fire burning in the hearth, filling the small room with both light and heat.

Tonks began to rummage through her pack, searching for food for their supper. Molly had provided them with a virtual larder, enough rations for a small army rather than just two people, clearly concerned that her eldest son and his partner might starve along the way. Thanks to the ingenious use of an Undetectable Extension Charm, there had been more than enough room for all of the food as well as their other supplies.

Unfortunately, anything she wanted seemed to be on the bottom of the pack, squashed beneath their other gear. She grew increasingly irritable, swearing under her breath as she pulled out assorted items, none of them edible. Finally, she found some sandwiches and fruit as well as a tin of cocoa and two heavy ceramic mugs. "We ought to eat," she said quietly as Bill dusted off his hands, rubbing them on the thighs of his heavy jeans, his back still turned from her. "Oh, we haven't any way of getting water without an Aguamenti, have we?"

"For fuck's sake, Tonks," Bill scoffed, "it's snowing out. If you melt snow, what do you get?"

"Oh." Tonks couldn't have felt any stupider if she'd tried. "Right." She sniffled, trying to hold back her temper and the flood of tears she could feel threatening to overtake her. She was tired and cold and achy and more than a little bit frightened. "Pardon me for not thinking like a Muggle. S'pose we can't all be as clever as you, Head Boy. Perhaps Dumbledore ought to have sent you on this assignment without me – clearly I'm hindering you."

Bill rose to his feet, coming to her side. "Shit. I shouldn't have—" He put an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. "Just a bit tetchy from the cold. I'm sorry, love. Really sorry." He rested his chin against her shoulder, his expression one of abject contrition, like a small boy who'd been caught with his hand in the biscuit tin. Strands of damp ginger hair fell over his eyes, giving him a decidedly rakish appearance.

"Charmer," she muttered. It was hard to stay angry with him when he was looking at her like that, and he had rid the place of all the pests for her. It was easy to see how he'd gotten around Molly over the years, along with nearly everyone else on the planet. Bill was infuriatingly irresistible. She wouldn't have been surprised if he'd practised that look and the precise fall of his hair for hours in order to get the proper effect.

"Always." Bill reached up and tugged a lock of her wet hair, twisting it gently around a long finger. "It's why you like me, isn't it?"

"Pfft," Tonks pushed him away, trying very hard not to laugh. The last thing he needed was more encouragement. "Who said I liked you, Weasley?"

"You must," he continued, sticking his tongue out at her. "Otherwise you'd have told Dumbledore to find you another partner."

"Perhaps I didn't want to insult you in the middle of your parents' house," Tonks teased. "Wouldn't have been very sporting of me, would it? Especially when Dumbledore seemed so keen to send you along with me. Probably just fobbed you off on me cos he wanted to get rid of you and your bloody charming ways."

"You like me and you know it," he said adamantly, his mouth quirking into a self-satisfied smirk. "I refuse to believe otherwise."

"Then you're bloody well delusional," Tonks replied. She looked over at the food she'd set on the table longingly, her stomach rumbling. "And I'm famished. Since you know so much about how to Transfigure snow into water, Weasley, you can go fetch us some, yeah?"

Bill grinned, then gave her a polite bow reminiscent of a house-elf. "Anything to put myself back in your good graces, love."

* * *

They took off their wet cloaks and boots, hanging them in front of the fire, then ate their supper in companionable silence, both savouring the warmth and relative safety of their surroundings. The thin walls shook as the wind howled fiercely, rattling the windows and the door. The snow continued to fall; Tonks was grateful they'd found this sanctuary rather than being lost in the maelstrom outside.

Tonks finished the dregs of her cocoa, then stifled a yawn. Now that she was relatively warm, dry and fed, the exertions of the day were starting to catch up with her.

Bill laughed, ruffling her hair. "Sleepy, are we?"

"Mmph. Could be." She moved her mug towards the center of the table before she knocked it to the floor. "Though I'd say it's more like utterly and completely knackered at this point." She put her hand over her mouth as she yawned again, her eyelids starting to droop.

"Maybe we should get that mattress sorted and get settled for the night? Getting some kip seems like a good idea to me too." Bill got to his feet gracefully, stretching his arms over his head, his shirt riding up, exposing a pale, freckled strip of his stomach. Tonks couldn't help but watch him as he moved, her eyes roving over his lean frame. Bill caught her gawking at him and raised an eyebrow in curiosity, causing her to look away quickly. "Like what you see, do you?" he teased, preening ever so slightly.

"You know you're good-looking, Weasley," she snorted. "Do you really need me to feed your ego further?"

Chuckling, he padded across the floor in his socks, heaving up the mattress and hauling to the floor, dragging it closer to the fire. He glanced over her, then back at the mattress. "Think that's far enough away that you won't set yourself on fire in the middle of the night?"

"Oi!" Tonks exclaimed. "I'm not that clumsy!"

"Pull the other one," he replied before moving it several inches further away from the hearth. "There. That ought to be a safe distance. Especially if you sleep on the other side."

"Such a gentleman, always looking after m'welfare," she muttered, pulling out her pack to find her bedroll.

"Why do you think Dumbledore sent me along? Someone's got keep an eye on you, Tonks. Might as well be me. Reckon I'm just a glutton for punishment." Bill ducked as she picked up an Extendable Ear and sent it flying in his direction.

They settled down for the night, their bedrolls spread out on the lumpy mattress upon the floor. Despite initial misgivings about things still infesting the stuffing, Tonks was relieved to find that Bill's spell had held and it seemed to be one hundred percent vermin free. She had slept in some unsavoury and unsanitary places in the past, so she wasn't too concerned about the cleanliness of the mattress, especially when their combined blankets and bedding seemed to be enough of a barrier to keep them from the filthy fabric.

The room was still chilly in spite of the fire, especially now that she'd shrugged out of her jumper, wearing just a tee-shirt over jeans to sleep. Tonks shivered as she burrowed beneath her blankets, shifting in order to find a comfortable spot.

Bill lay stretched out on his side, propped up on one elbow. He'd offered to take first watch although the likelihood of someone finding them here was fairly low considering the winter storm still raging outside. "Cold, are you?"

"Of course. We're in the midst of a bleeding blizzard, Bill," Tonks spoke slowly, as if explaining the concept to a small child. "It's always cold when it's snowing." There was a pause. "Plank."

"Plank, am I? You're the one who didn't know you could melt snow to get fresh water." Bill slid his hand under the covers, poking her in the ribs with a fingertip.

Tonks squealed in indignation, rolling over to slap his hand away. "Oi! Leave off!"

"I rather like that noise. It reminds me of the mice." He smirked at her, waggling his eyebrows. "Perhaps I ought to try it again?"

"Don't you dare!" she warned, backing away. "I may be tired but I can still fight back."

"I don't doubt that for a minute," Bill conceded, raising his hands up in surrender. "Badgers are fierce little buggers, aren't they?"

"Too bloody right." She shivered again, trying to pull the blankets closer.

"C'mere." Bill moved closer, wrapping one arm around her waist, drawing her up against him.

"What..?" Tonks stiffened against him, confused by the contact. His body was warm and firm, his hands soft as they rested against her back.

"Hush, woman. It's cold. I'm cold. You're cold. Combined body heat always helps in situations like these."

She let out a snort. "Been in a lot of 'em, have you? Bet there's loads of snowstorms in the desert."

"No," Bill answered, giving her another poke. "But I've read up on the subject. I'm the bookish sort – Twelve OWLs, and all that, remember?"

"Riiiight. You're a regular little bookworm, you are." Tonks tilted her head up to stick her tongue out at him. He was right. It was much warmer being this close to him, not to mention oddly comforting. She settled down, curling up against him, vaguely aware of his fingers drawing idle patterns against the small of her back. "You're only bookish if the book's one of them Fifi LaFolle things."

That set him chuckling again. "So, you see me as the hero in some sordid bodice ripper, do you?"

"Doesn't everyone? Let's face it, Weasley, you were the pin-up boy of every girl at school when I was there. You know that."

"Huh. And what about you? Did I have a special place on your wall, Tonks?" His soft, soothing voice coupled with the constant circling of his fingers was creating a hypnotic effect, relaxing her even further.

"Nah. The only things on my wall were posters of the Harpies. I'm not that sort of girl, going for all that sheep-eyed hero-worshipping rubbish. Never was." Tonks yawned. "Never could be."

"Oh." Bill's hand stopped moving, and had she been more awake, Tonks might have detected a hint of dismay in his voice. "Sorry."

"Wha'for?" she asked drowsily, snuggling closer, her cheek now resting on his shoulder. "Doesn't mean I don't like you. M'jes not all about the treacle. S'jes' not m'style. S'jes' not me, mate."

"So, you do like me then?"

"A'course, y'pillock." She wasn't really certain why he was giving her the third degree, especially as she was drifting off to sleep. "Would I be 'ere if I din't?"

Bill reached out his free hand to stroke her hair off her face; she could feel his warm breath ruffling it softly. "No, I suppose not. Get some sleep, love. I'll wake you in a few hours."

"Mmm…sounds like a good plan." And then she was asleep.

* * *

Tonks slept fitfully, the noise of the storm and the fear of being discovered by their enemies lurking in the back of her mind, entering her dreams and keeping her from a truly deep sleep. In truth, she had not slept well for weeks. Ever since the Battle at the Ministry and Sirius's death, she had been plagued with nightmares reliving the battle and its aftermath. Tonight, it seemed worse than ever.

A few times she'd awoken, startled, panicked and disorientated in the dark cabin. Bill had soothed her back into slumber with gentle caresses and soft words. She woke again, hovering on the threshold between sleep and consciousness, vaguely aware of dim grey light filtering through the grimy windows into the room. However, it was warm and cozy under the covers, Bill now wrapped around her from behind, his chest firmly pressed against her back, his hips against her arse.

"Mmm," he murmured drowsily, his nose buried in her hair, his lips brushing against the nape of her neck. His chin was rough with stubble as it rubbed against her skin.

Tonks felt him press harder against her, just conscious of his conspicuous erection straining through his jeans, nudging against her lower back. She was still too hazy to be offended or bothered; it felt like a relaxing, pleasant dream in which Bill Weasley wanted her.

Bill's hand found her breast, cupping it lightly, his thumb moving in slow arcs around her nipple, teasing it into hardness as he ground his pelvis against her bottom. His breathing grew heavier, slightly ragged, as he rubbed up against her, his hips rocking with more intensity.

It was nice to be touched up by Bill Weasley, Tonks thought muzzily. He had such wonderful hands. "Mmm, Bill," she moaned, arching back against him, her toes brushing along his calves. "Feels nice."

She felt his fingers tighten slightly around her breast, his teeth grazing the crook of her neck. She'd wanted him for such a long time, and he wanted her too. She could hardly believe it was happening. Slowly, realisation started to seep in to her sleep-addled brain. Bill Weasley was touching her up. Bill Weasley was touching her up?

Her eyes snapped open and she sat up with a start. He had to be asleep or dreaming…or mad. And she'd been encouraging him as if it was the most natural thing in the world for him to be doing. "Oi, what are you playing at?" she rasped, her cheeks heating up.

"Mmph?" Confused, Bill didn't stop immediately, attempting to drag her back into his embrace. "Morning, sweetheart. Why're you…?"

"Don't," she whimpered, wanting to save them both from further embarrassment.

He withdrew his hands suddenly as if she'd burned him, blushing so furiously that his face practically glowed. "Shit."

"Blimey, Weasley, what the hell is wrong with you?" Tonks wrenched back the blankets, stomping over to the fire which had burned down, reduced to smouldering embers. She could still hear the wind whipping as violently as before; she doubted they'd be going anywhere soon. Angrily, she threw a few more logs on the fire, stirring at the cinders until they began to smoke and glow.

"Tonks, I—" Bill started, not moving from his spot on the mattress, the covers obscuring his shameful condition, his hands cupped over his crotch. "Dora, look, I didn't…"

"Don't call me that!" she snapped. "Only m'dad can call me that. Not you. Not ever."

"All right, all right. I'm sorry," he mumbled, raking back his unruly hair with his fingers. "Can't do anything right, can I?"

"Right now? Not a bloody chance, boyo." Tonks felt a lump forming in her throat, her eyes pricking with tears. Why had he messed with her like that? Did he think it was some sort of sick joke? Had they not been lost somewhere in the Scottish Highlands in the middle of a blizzard, she would have gone tearing out of the cabin, needing to be somewhere else, anywhere else, but near him. "Just—"

"Piss off?" Bill suggested wryly "Fuck off and die a painful death?"

"No. Just…go back to sleep," she managed. "You never woke me to take the bloody watch, did you?"

"I—erm, no. Must've dozed off." Bill hung his head in embarrassment. "I'm sorry."

"Fat lot of good that'd've done if someone had come looking for us," she grumbled, still poking at the fire even though it was burning brightly now. "Could've murdered us in our bed." Tonks grimaced at the thought.

"I know. It was foolish to—"

She raised her hand, cutting him off, then stalked towards the filthy window. "Well, I'm wide awake now. You might as well rest while you can." Peering out through the battered shudder, she shook her head in frustration. "It's still snowing out there like there's no tomorrow. I think we'll be safe here for a while longer."

Bill glanced over towards the window, then nodded. "Tonks, if we're going to be stuck here, I really think we ought to talk about—"

"No." Tonks said frostily. "We don't. There's nothing to talk about, mate."

"Fine." Bill sighed in exasperation, then flopped back on their makeshift bed, arms akimbo, staring straight up at the rough-beamed ceiling blankly. Eventually, he rolled onto his side, pulling the covers up to obscure his face, leaving Tonks to take the watch all on her own.

* * *

The snow continued to fall, turning the world beyond the cabin into an endless field of brilliant white. The sky lightened to a dull, dismal grey which mirrored Tonks' dark mood. She sat in a chair, facing the door, her wand across her lap, watching and waiting for phantom Death Eaters who never came.

Bill had barely moved in all that time, other than occasionally turning onto his back or his side, hardly making a sound as he slept.

Tonks wanted to go to him, to talk to him, to comfort him, but she had no idea of what to do or how to do it. Of course she'd liked what Bill had been doing this morning, had wanted more, but…they were just friends, weren't they? It's all they ever had been, all they ever could be. She was afraid to talk to him about the situation because she knew what he would say: that he'd been dreaming, probably about his too young, too possessive Veela, or some other beautiful woman with a wasp waist and big tits and long blonde hair, that he was a red-blooded man who liked women, who had needs and she…well, she'd just been a convenient, warm body nearby. Somehow that thought made her feel colder than if she'd been standing outside, naked in the snow.

She saw him stirring, rubbing his eyes and yawning before glancing at his watch.

"How's the weather?" Bill asked, eyeing her warily as if he expected her to Stun him or worse. His hair had come loose from its dragon hide thong, cascading over his shoulders like a curtain of copper. Tonks had a sudden urge to run her fingers through it. Instead, she just gripped her wand tighter.

"Still snowing. I'm beginning to wonder if it'll ever end or if we'll be stuck in the bloody place forever."

Bill snorted. "Fate worse than death, being stuck with me, eh?" He reached for his pack, fishing out a toothbrush, toothpaste, a comb and a worn towel along with some clean clothes. "I'm going to tidy up. Have you eaten anything yet?"

Tonks shook her head, deciding she actually liked him looking a bit scruffy. She pushed that thought out of her mind. "Just a piece of your mum's rhubarb crumble. You know I can't cook to save my life. With or without magic."

There was the briefest hint of a smile on his lips. "I'll make us some grub once I'm finished, yeah?" He sighed wistfully. "What I wouldn't do for a good coffee right about now."

"Don't look at me, mate. This is why I frequent Muggle coffee bars m'self. There's a fab one near Covent Garden that serves the best caffé mocha I've ever…" Her words trailed off as Tonks realised she was babbling, that Bill didn't give a toss about her taste in coffees or anything else for that matter. She gave him a diffident shrug instead. "T-ta. If it weren't for you and your mum, we'd starve to death."

Bill's smile grew slightly wider. "Nice to know you think I'm good for something after all." Before she could comment, he'd loped into the bathroom.

He re-emerged a short time later, looking clean and refreshed. He was shirtless, clad in just his low-slung jeans, his chest pale, freckled and sprinkled with a light coppery down which ran in a line along his hard, flat stomach. His hair had been scraped back into its customary ponytail, his fang earring dangling from his left earlobe, the used towel slung over his bare shoulders. Bill moved with a nonchalant animal grace, as if he were unaware of just how good-looking he was and unconcerned with the fact that he was only half-dressed. Tonks nearly forgot how to breathe.

Putting the towel back in his bag, Bill then fished out the items necessary for their breakfast: eggs, a rasher of bacon, bread, some butter, a large iron frying pan and some utensils. Tonks was transfixed as he started preparing the food like an expert: heating the pan in the fire, melting the butter, cracking the eggs and letting them fry. It was impressive enough when someone cooked the normal way, but without magic, it was incredible. Bill made it look so damned easy. Not to mention sexy.

Her mind kept wandering as she watched him, replaying the events of this morning over and over: his lips on her neck, his fingers on her breasts, his warm breath on her skin, the sound of his voice as he'd sighed, his body wrapped around her own. She squirmed in her chair, trying to block the memories, but they wouldn't go away. It wasn't hardly fair to be tormented like this. "It's not fair!" Tonks blurted.

Bill turned to her in confusion. "What's not fair? Do you want me to make you another egg? We've got more."

"Wh-what?" She was blushing again, her hand clapped over her mouth as she realised she'd spoken out loud. "Erm…no. Nevermind."

"Nevermind? Tonks, what's with you? Have you gone completely mental on me?"

"No! It's just that…I don't think…" Tonks growled in frustration. She took a deep breath, steeling her courage, deciding that she couldn't hold back any longer. "It's not fair, you know, you walking around like that, looking that good, that gorgeous, and me not being able to do anything about it! It's like you're deliberately torturing me... or punishing me for something I haven't even done, reminding me that I can look but I can't ever touch. Not now, not ever!"

"When the hell did I say anything like that?" Bill cocked an eyebrow at her, looking perturbed. "If anything, Tonks, I'm the one who's being punished here, not you. You're the one who told me to stop this morning. You're the one who made me think there could be something between us. I don't remember ever giving you any bloody indication that you couldn't come near me."

'You don't have to! You're…you're you for fuck's sake, you're Bill fucking Weasley!"

"What the hell does that mean?"

"Well, we're just mates, aren't we? I know I'm not your sort of girl, Bill! I'm not pretty enough or glamorous enough or exotic enough for your tastes…"

"Since when did you become an expert on my taste in women? I never said any of that, and if someone else told you I have, well, I'll have to give them a good thumping." Bill stood, yanking the pan out of the fire, then closed the distance between them with a few long strides. There he was, just inches from her face, his hands firmly gripping her shoulders. "Is that what this is all about? Are you telling me you do fancy me?"

"Why? What's it to you? I don't want to be just another desperate member of your bloody fan club—"

"Just answer the question, woman. Yes or no? Do you want me?"

It shocked her to hear him sounding so plaintive, so uncertain. Tonks felt her face growing as pink as her unruly hair. She looked down at her toes, unable to meet his gaze, and it took all her strength to force out the single word, her voice quavering as she did. "Y-yes."

Bill crushed his mouth to hers, kissing her hard and long and relentlessly, as if he was putting every ounce of energy into it to convince her of his sincerity. Tonks was hesitant at first, then relaxed in his arms, kissing him back with equal passion. Kissing him was glorious. Amazing. Incredible. She was confused beyond all reason, but would not have wanted him to stop for any reason in the world. Even an army of homicidal Death Eaters bursting through the door would have had to wait for Bill to finish snogging her.

He drew back, breathing hard, and rubbed his nose against hers, his grin as wide as a jack o'lantern's. "You are the most infuriating woman I have ever met, did you know that? And before you say another bloody word, let me tell you that you are what I want. You're adorable, you're funny, you're sweet, and if a Metamorphmagus isn't exotic, I don't know what is. Not that I give a toss either way. I just want you."

"But…" she protested weakly, her knees threatening to buckle beneath her. She held on to him tightly, to keep herself steady.

"You talk too much." He laid a long finger against her lips, then drew it away slowly to kiss her again, this time more urgently. It took her breath away completely. "No more arguments, love."

Tonks reached up and caressed his cheek, now smooth and clean-shaven. "I wasn't going to argue."

"Yes, you were," Bill replied, his smile even wider. "You're unbelievably contrary. Which is one of the things I love most about you, Nymphadora Tonks."

"Oh, you love me, do you?" She felt her heart skip a beat, trying to process what he was saying, what he was doing. "And don't call me 'Nymphadora'!"

Bill kissed her soundly before answering, his blue eyes twinkling when he did. "Do I love you? Mmmaybe. I'd ask if you had a problem with that, but I suspect it would only lead to another long drawn out lecture from you and I'm not certain I could take that." His fingers were in her hair now, playing with her spiky locks. He leaned in close and whispered, "Especially when there are loads of other things I'd rather be doing," then nuzzled her earlobe to punctuate his point.

A shiver ran down Tonks's spine, but not from the cold. "Yeah?"

Bill's gaze flickered over to the mattress, then back at her, smirking mischievously. "Yeah." He leaned over and hooked one arm under her knees, then scooped her up in his arms, carrying her over to the unmade bed. Tonks giggled as he deposited her down on top of the rumpled bedclothes, then dove onto it himself.

He cupped her face in his hands, lightly tracing a line along her jaw with his fingertip. "I like it when you laugh, Tonks," he said earnestly. "You're so beautiful when you do. Seems like it's been too long since I've seen you like this."

"It's this bloody war, it—"

"I know," Bill interjected with a rueful smile. "It's taken its toll on all of us. I just want to make you happy, love. If you'll let me."

Tonks nodded bashfully, pressing her cheek against his curve of his hand, kissing the palm. "Please?"

He leaned in and kissed her again, his hands sliding from her face to her neck, then over the swell of her breasts to her waist, pushing up the thin tee-shirt she wore. His hands were warm as they came in contact with bare skin, caressing, touching, kneading. His kisses trailed over her chin to her throat; he nuzzled at her neck as he worked her shirt up higher, only stopping to peel it off her completely. Bill stared for a moment, taking in the sight of her bare breasts, nipples already standing taut. He let out a low hiss, his eyes dark with desire.

He dipped his head down, drawing one rosy nipple into his mouth, sucking eagerly. Tonks sighed, and buried her fingers in his long hair, marvelling at how soft it was. She was still half-afraid that a mere touch would make him dissipate like smoke, that this was still part of her earlier waking dream. But it was real: the touch of his warm, moist mouth against her skin, the feel of his teeth as he dragged them across her nipple, the vibrations as he moaned enthusiastically against the mound of her breast, the damp heat she could feel between her legs.

Bill lavished one breast, then the other, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through Tonks's body. She curled her toes, squirming against the mattress, stroking his hair, urging him on. He licked over the curve of her breasts and then the undersides, working his kisses down to her belly, his hands now caressing her ribs, her hips, her thighs. High-pitched squeals of surprise escaped her lips as he stuck his tongue into her belly button, his gaze flickering up, his eyes sparkling with mischief. He snickered, continuing to tease her with his tongue, his hands now finding the button of her trousers. He unfastened them with expert ease, tugging them over her hips.

Tonks raised her arse, letting Bill strip off her trousers, cheeks flushing as she felt vulnerable and exposed under his scrutiny.

"So beautiful," he breathed giving her an appreciative looking over which made Tonks feel as though she might melt. Any misgivings she'd had before disappeared; she didn't believe for a moment that he could be playacting that sort of reaction. At least, she hoped he couldn't. She wanted this to be real, she wanted what they were doing together to matter.

Bill drew back, resting on his knees, planting kisses along her thighs and the crooks of her knees as he stroked her calves, played with her toes, touching every inch of her that he could reach.

She sat up, propped up on her elbows, watching him in rapt fascination, moaning and sighing as he explored her body with hands, lips, teeth and tongue.

He leaned forward again and hooked his fingers in the waistband of her knickers, tugging playfully. "These need to come off," he said, unable to tear his eyes from her nearly naked form.

The corner of her mouth quirked up into a crooked smile. "You reckon?"

"Uh huh." Bill locked his eyes on hers as he pulled her knickers off and casually tossed them aside. He slid down, still watching her as he pushed her knees up and parted her thighs with firm hands, then dropped his head to nose through her pink pubic curls, his breath warm and moist against her skin. Tonks felt herself blushing again as he ran his thumbs along her wet nether lips, teasing them open, spreading her wide. One arm wrapped around her thigh, the tip of his tongue flickered against her clit, and then Bill lowered his mouth, fusing it against her skin, sucking, kissing, lapping at her cunt, groaning in approval as he tasted her.

Tonks moaned in response, undulating beneath him, her hips beginning to rock. She gasped as Bill slid two fingers inside her, moving them in shallow thrusts as he continued to pleasure her. "Oh, Bill, ooooooh, Bill."

Every inch of her was tingling, her clit throbbing with a delicious ache from his ministrations. She fisted the bedclothes, thrashing as he pushed her to the edge…

And then pulled back, resting his cheek against her wet inner thigh.

Tonks whimpered in protest. "Why…?"

"Not yet, sweetheart," Bill managed, before pressing his lips against her leg. He relaxed his hold and crawled up the length of her body to kiss her on the mouth.

She could taste herself on his lips, smell her scent on his skin. It was intoxicating. She pulled him to her, wrapping her entire body around his, rubbing against him wantonly. She ran the blunt of her nails down his bare back, then grabbed his arse, fondling it through the thick denim of his jeans.

Tearing at his jeans, Tonks all but ripped them open, yanking them down his long legs. Bill kicked them off completely, then shucked his underpants; skimpy black briefs which made Tonks smile. Only he could pull something like that off without looking ridiculous.

He lay on his side, letting her see all of him now; he was lean, with well-toned arms and legs, his chest and stomach hard. His skin was fair and dappled with freckles, his rampant cock long and thick, rooted in a tangle of copper curls. She drew in a breath as she took in the sight.

"Touch me," he pleaded, taking her hand in his much larger one, wrapping their entwined fingers around the hilt of his cock. Bill moaned and bit his lip, his eyes fluttering closed in ecstasy, as she stroked him, starting to pump slowly against her hand.

Tonks pressed the flat of her hand against the head, moving it in slow, teasing circles, making him moan again. "Like that, do you?"

His voice was rough, his breathing ragged. "Oh, gods, yes."

She laughed, leaning over to kiss his brow, and squeezed his cock gently. Bill put a restraining hand on her wrist. To her surprise, he was trembling.

Without waiting for any further response, Bill pushed Tonks onto her back, rolling with her, his naked body warm and firm against hers. He rubbed against her, his cock dragging along her belly, his hips flush with her own. His elbows on either side of her shoulders, Bill loomed over her, then kissed her tenderly. "Want you," he whispered, "want you so fucking much…"

Tonks shifted, allowing him to move back, his cock in hand. He pushed the head between her thighs, stroking it along the slick lips of her cunt, pressing it against her clit, his eyes locked on hers, gauging her reaction. She took a deep breath, then gave him a quick nod of assent, wanting him as much as he wanted her.

Bill guided himself in slowly, one hand caressing her hip, until he was hilt deep. He shifted, settling between her legs, groaning as she clenched around him.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, locking them against the base of his spine. He began to thrust in short, shallow bursts, building up in intensity, driving in deeper and harder each time. Tonks moved in tandem with him, her hips bucking to meet his, clutching at him, her nails digging into his broad back. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, licking and kissing him urgently.

"Oh, TonksohTonksohTonks." He keened her name like a litany, the words turning into a strangled cry as she tightened again. His thrusts had accelerated to a frenzied pace, his hands gripping her so hard she thought he might leave bruises.

"Come on, Weasley," she gasped beneath him, "almost there, almost there..."

Bill gave one final push and then he was convulsing and shuddering in her arms, his head thrown back, his tangled hair framing his face.

Tonks heard the roar of his cries in her ear, felt the hot rush of his release filling her. It sent her spiralling out of control; she let go, her vision exploding to pure white as paroxysms of pleasure ripped through her body. It took what felt like a blissful eternity to come back down again.

"Nymphadora Tonks," Bill murmured as he peppered her face with kisses, "you are fucking amazing."

"Mmm, you weren't half-bad yourself, mate." She sighed in contentment, reaching up to push his hair out of his eyes. "Wotcher."

Bill traced the curve her lower lip with his fingertip, then kissed her very softly. "Hiya."
He rolled to his side, taking her with him as he did. "So, am I allowed to call you 'Dora' now?"

Tonks pursed her lips together, "I'll think about it."

"Well, that's a start at least. Seems like a fair compromise seeing how you hate your given name and me calling my girlfriend by her surname seems a bit wrong."

"Your girlfriend," she echoed giddily. It was still difficult to believe that he wanted her in that way, but she wasn't about to argue now.

"That's all right, innit? Being my girlfriend, that is. 'Partner' sounds too pretentious and 'lover' makes it sound like it's only about the shagging…"

"Weasley, you know what? You talk too much." With that, Tonks cut him off from any further discussion with a passionate kiss.

* * *

The rest of the day was spent in bed: cuddling, kissing, touching, making love. It was impossible to keep their hands off one another, all the frustration and fears of their dangerous mission and the war pushed aside as they explored one another to the fullest. There were brief intervals where they'd stop in order to check the still raging storm outside, then talked and ate and drowsed before things between them once again became heated.

Their assignment had not been truly forgotten; neither of them was that irresponsible or foolhardy. It was just impossible to do anything about it until the foul weather abated and, as Bill had pointed out to Tonks when she'd raised the question, they had to do something to pass the time and avoid cabin fever, hadn't they? Tonks hadn't been able to find any holes in such flawless logic.

She straddled Bill, her sore thighs pressed firmly against his hipbones, her hands flat against his chest. He lay beneath her, gripping her arse tightly as he pumped into her, gasping and groaning with exertion. The couple was so caught up in one another that it took several minutes before Tonks realised they were being watched.

A large ghostly silver-white lynx sat on its haunches, its cool gaze fixed upon them. It cast a eerie glow in the room. Tonks let out a shriek, then scrambled about to find something to cover herself up with. Startled, Bill sat up, searching around frantically, trying to discover the source of her sudden panic. He caught sight of the Patronus and clapped his hands over his eyes.

"Oh, bugger," he moaned. "We've been nicked." Gallantly, he put his arms around Tonks, shielding her naked torso from the lynx with his body, resting his head on her shoulder.

Tonks could feel him shaking with silent laughter. "Stop it, you pillock," she hissed, cuffing him on the arm.

"Tonks. William," the lynx rumbled in Kingsley Shacklebolt's basso profundo .

"Erm, w-wotcher, Kingsley," Tonks squeaked, her face flushed with humiliation.

"I trust you two are well?" Tonks could detect the hint of amusement in the other Auror's voice. Instinctively, she knew he was never going to let her live this one down. Bill shook even harder, cramming his fist into his mouth to keep from laughing out loud.

"Y-yes. We're stuck in a cabin. It's, erm, it's snowing here!" she stated, realising just how idiotic she sounded as soon as the words came out of her mouth.

The lynx blinked its lamp-like eyes once; Tonks could swear it was smirking at her. "Yes, we are well aware of the situation where you are which is why we've initiated contact. Your mission has been aborted. The Death Eaters have moved the location of their meeting on account of the weather and are now converging upon Swansea…"

"Swansea? We…we can be there in a tic…" Tonks didn't really relish the thought of rushing to Wales at a moment's notice, but her duty was to the Order before all things, and if they needed to leave, they would leave.

"No need. The conditions up North are still particularly perilous," said the lynx. "Apparating out of there would be extremely hazardous at the moment. Dumbledore suggested that you wait the storm out and return back to London as soon as you can. Another team have already been dispatched to Swansea."

"O-oh?" Tonks felt a flood of relief at the news. Bill gave her a squeeze which made her think he was feeling the same.

"We will expect you back at your earliest convenience," The lynx said dryly. "Of course, it will probably take some time to dig yourself out. If you're not back by the end of the week, we will send someone after the pair of you."

Before Tonks could respond, the Patronus had disappeared. At that point, Bill gave up trying to be quiet, breaking into loud, raucous laughter.

"Dumbledore is going to kill us," Tonks wailed.

"Nah," Bill insisted, fighting to catch his breath. "Perhaps we could tell him we got hit with some sort of unbelievably overpowering love spell? Or that Fred and George laced some of Mum's cooking with some sort of aphrodisiac potion?"

She laughed, then shook her head. "Not certain he'd believe you. As if you'd ever lie to anyone, let alone him, oh virtuous Head Boy."

"I'd have thought that today would've taught you I'm not that virtuous, love." Bill leered at her, wiping tears of mirth out of his eyes. "I suspect Dumbledore'd know if I was telling porkies at any rate. It would be hard to miss that something was going on between us seeing as I'm not planning on giving this up once we've gone back home."

"Mmm." Tonks wriggled in his lap. "That's a relief."

He looked at her soberly. "You didn't actually think I'd consider this as a one off, did you?"

"Well, I'd rather hoped that wasn’t the case. Especially since…" She hid her face against the crook of his neck, suddenly feeling very self-conscious.

"Since?" Bill put a strong hand under her chin and raised her head up, forcing her to look at him.

"Since," Tonks drew in a deep breath, "I think I've fallen hopelessly in love with you, Bill Weasley."

"Huh." He stared at her, a pleased smile forming on his lips. "That's rather nice to know considering I've come to the same conclusion."

"What? That I'm in love with you?" she teased.

"Well, that too." Bill tightened his embrace, then kissed her long and hard, leaving her breathless with no question of his feelings towards her. He glanced toward the window; it was covered in frost, one grimy pane cleared to see outside. It was still snowing heavily. "It will be good to get home," he mused, "Then I can have you round to my place for a proper home cooked meal with some good wine, not something I've thrown together over a fireplace," he mused, "and then make love to you in a clean comfortable bed, not one on the floor that's been a holiday camp for Merlin knows what. And I want you to take me to that Muggle coffee bar with the fabulous caffé mocha."

"Mmm, sounds lovely." Tonks laid her head on his shoulder and sighed happily. "I'd even have you round to my place for a proper meal if you'd like. As long as you don't mind takeaway."

"No, I don't mind at all. As long as you're included with one of the courses. Or for afters," Bill replied, before planting another kiss on her cheek. "It seems as though I've developed quite a taste for you, Nymphadora Tonks."