Weasleys and Whiskey
Jun. 29th, 2006 07:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
meddowThis is a rather large departure from the way I normally write so I have the need to explain its creation a bit. In other fics I’ve written about insanity, torture, lust and murder, so really sex was the last taboo for me to cover. I had also been toying with this idea for some time since I love all the characters involved (and if I like characters I tend to ship them together). But in the end it was ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
melusinahp’s wonderful fic Seven Answers to One Question (which if you haven’t read you should go do now, it’s brilliant) gave me the bunny. So, without further ado…
Weasleys and Whiskey
Rating: R
Warnings: Sex.
Pairings: Tonks/Charlie, Tonks/Bill, Fred/Tonks/George, Tonks/Percy, Tonks/Remus, Tonks/Ginny and Tonks/Ron.
Summary: Tonks reflects on a lifetime of encounters with the Weasley siblings.
Author’s Notes: Thank you very much toragdoll for betaing this. Concrit welcome.
*~*~*~
That night was always meant to be a first, although our original intention was for just plain drunkenness. Spending so many years in the shelter of Hogwarts we had never gotten up too much before. To this day, I do not remember who came up with the idea. Though looking back on it, a teenage boy and girl alone in a house with a pilfered bottle of Firewhiskey, it’s not surprising it ended the way it did. It was almost inevitable.
The sex itself was self-conscious and painful. There was a large amount of drunken, uncomfortable fumbling, but we got there in the end. Wrapped up in sheets with the light out and my head on his arm, it was the most tiresome rest I ever had.
It was our learning experience and the night we decided to become adults, just days before he left for Romania and I started Auror training. I can’t really imagine anyone else being quite as good a first time as Charlie.
Charlie was excellent for experience, a friend I felt remotely comfortable with. Whereas his brother Bill, well, he was just amazing.
Bill was at the end of those few weeks between my qualifying to be an Auror and the re-emergence of the Dark Mark at the World Cup, that brief time when I was between goals and worries and in need of a new challenge. Somehow we ended up at the same pub, him smiling when he recognised the shy little friend of Charlie. The now confident and newly qualified Auror smiled back.
Ever since I was thirteen, I’d idolized Bill Weasley. For a period of about a year while we were at Hogwarts, I came out in freckles every time he talked to me. Practiced and knowledgeable, Bill was everything I could imagine. He had obviously gotten quite a bit of experience in Egypt and, once again, he managed to bring me out in freckles.
Bill was a conquest, but it took him until the next day to figure it out. He decided he was going to buy me breakfast at a café in the morning, some form of peace offering, or a rather twisted sense of chivalry. We split the bill.
The following summer was 1995 and the time of my unplanned rebellion. I found myself in the company of outlaws with my job on the line should I ever be caught, and somehow the small rules I had always lived by didn’t seem to matter anymore.
Fuelled by the Black family’s hundred-year-old malt Firewhiskey, a gift from Sirius, and the unfairness of Remus’ emotional defences, I agreed to the twins. After all, you should live while you can. Sirius taught me that.
We were a mass tangle of limbs. Roaring laughter and screams of ecstasy. Loud insane sex in a room surrounded by silencing charms, only meters away from being caught by the other occupants of Grimmauld Place. Those two managed to bring out more than freckles in me.
The next days and weeks were filled with coy smiles from the two of them and indifference from myself. They never told and neither did I. It was much more fun as our dirty little secret.
If Percy were to have found out, he would not have approved. Though really, as much as Percy would hate to know it, he is not all that different from the rest of his family.
One thing I learned from Percy is that loneliness, tiredness and stress bring unlikely people together. We were two people so different, brought together for a few months while I was desperately trying to hold my life together. He was not my saviour, nor was I his.
Percy was careful; his neatness and need to please followed him into the bedroom. I think it was what I needed then, someone willing to do anything to make me happy.
The last time it happened, he asked me if I would like to get some food before we ended up in bed. That’s when I knew it had to end. I had too many feelings about Remus; I could not in good conscious play with Percy’s.
I’m not sure if Percy ever found his happiness -- we were never friends-- though I found mine briefly. For a short period during the war, where despite everything still going wrong, I was content that Remus loved me and I loved him back.
He was taken away from me in the final battle, in front of my eyes. Harry was taken away as well; though Ginny was lucky enough not to bear witness her lover’s demise like I did mine.
Ginny came to me late at night, some days after the battle. She crept into my room, kissed me and told me that she needed a night without the ghost of Harry; she needed a night where she could mask the numbness of her grief with physical sensation and I, myself suffering from the same open wound, would be the only one who could help her.
It was rough, dry sex. Our fingernails scraped at one another and we slammed each other into the wall, for what pleasure could not hide, pain surely would.
The next morning while lying in my bed, Ginny cried. I don’t think in the end it eased her pain; it certainly did not end mine. We never spoke of that night. I think she regretted it.
On thing I have learned in my life is that war changes people, like it did Ginny and me. Afterwards some recover and some scar so deeply they never regain their humanity.
That was the difference between Ron and Hermione. From the view of a colleague, I watched his pain for three years as his marriage disintegrated, eventually leading to their divorce.
A bottle of whiskey and a particularly bad day, that’s what resulted in me sleeping with the last of the Weasley siblings. The comfort of having someone there next to us at night is probably why we have not stopped.
He will never love me instead of Hermione and I shall never ask him too. For surely that would mean I would have to love him instead of Remus.
Some may think it’s wrong, but I think that both of us understand that all humans need to be touched every now and again, even the broken ones.
melusinahp’s wonderful fic Seven Answers to One Question (which if you haven’t read you should go do now, it’s brilliant) gave me the bunny. So, without further ado…Weasleys and Whiskey
Rating: R
Warnings: Sex.
Pairings: Tonks/Charlie, Tonks/Bill, Fred/Tonks/George, Tonks/Percy, Tonks/Remus, Tonks/Ginny and Tonks/Ron.
Summary: Tonks reflects on a lifetime of encounters with the Weasley siblings.
Author’s Notes: Thank you very much to
ragdoll for betaing this. Concrit welcome. That night was always meant to be a first, although our original intention was for just plain drunkenness. Spending so many years in the shelter of Hogwarts we had never gotten up too much before. To this day, I do not remember who came up with the idea. Though looking back on it, a teenage boy and girl alone in a house with a pilfered bottle of Firewhiskey, it’s not surprising it ended the way it did. It was almost inevitable.
The sex itself was self-conscious and painful. There was a large amount of drunken, uncomfortable fumbling, but we got there in the end. Wrapped up in sheets with the light out and my head on his arm, it was the most tiresome rest I ever had.
It was our learning experience and the night we decided to become adults, just days before he left for Romania and I started Auror training. I can’t really imagine anyone else being quite as good a first time as Charlie.
Charlie was excellent for experience, a friend I felt remotely comfortable with. Whereas his brother Bill, well, he was just amazing.
Bill was at the end of those few weeks between my qualifying to be an Auror and the re-emergence of the Dark Mark at the World Cup, that brief time when I was between goals and worries and in need of a new challenge. Somehow we ended up at the same pub, him smiling when he recognised the shy little friend of Charlie. The now confident and newly qualified Auror smiled back.
Ever since I was thirteen, I’d idolized Bill Weasley. For a period of about a year while we were at Hogwarts, I came out in freckles every time he talked to me. Practiced and knowledgeable, Bill was everything I could imagine. He had obviously gotten quite a bit of experience in Egypt and, once again, he managed to bring me out in freckles.
Bill was a conquest, but it took him until the next day to figure it out. He decided he was going to buy me breakfast at a café in the morning, some form of peace offering, or a rather twisted sense of chivalry. We split the bill.
The following summer was 1995 and the time of my unplanned rebellion. I found myself in the company of outlaws with my job on the line should I ever be caught, and somehow the small rules I had always lived by didn’t seem to matter anymore.
Fuelled by the Black family’s hundred-year-old malt Firewhiskey, a gift from Sirius, and the unfairness of Remus’ emotional defences, I agreed to the twins. After all, you should live while you can. Sirius taught me that.
We were a mass tangle of limbs. Roaring laughter and screams of ecstasy. Loud insane sex in a room surrounded by silencing charms, only meters away from being caught by the other occupants of Grimmauld Place. Those two managed to bring out more than freckles in me.
The next days and weeks were filled with coy smiles from the two of them and indifference from myself. They never told and neither did I. It was much more fun as our dirty little secret.
If Percy were to have found out, he would not have approved. Though really, as much as Percy would hate to know it, he is not all that different from the rest of his family.
One thing I learned from Percy is that loneliness, tiredness and stress bring unlikely people together. We were two people so different, brought together for a few months while I was desperately trying to hold my life together. He was not my saviour, nor was I his.
Percy was careful; his neatness and need to please followed him into the bedroom. I think it was what I needed then, someone willing to do anything to make me happy.
The last time it happened, he asked me if I would like to get some food before we ended up in bed. That’s when I knew it had to end. I had too many feelings about Remus; I could not in good conscious play with Percy’s.
I’m not sure if Percy ever found his happiness -- we were never friends-- though I found mine briefly. For a short period during the war, where despite everything still going wrong, I was content that Remus loved me and I loved him back.
He was taken away from me in the final battle, in front of my eyes. Harry was taken away as well; though Ginny was lucky enough not to bear witness her lover’s demise like I did mine.
Ginny came to me late at night, some days after the battle. She crept into my room, kissed me and told me that she needed a night without the ghost of Harry; she needed a night where she could mask the numbness of her grief with physical sensation and I, myself suffering from the same open wound, would be the only one who could help her.
It was rough, dry sex. Our fingernails scraped at one another and we slammed each other into the wall, for what pleasure could not hide, pain surely would.
The next morning while lying in my bed, Ginny cried. I don’t think in the end it eased her pain; it certainly did not end mine. We never spoke of that night. I think she regretted it.
On thing I have learned in my life is that war changes people, like it did Ginny and me. Afterwards some recover and some scar so deeply they never regain their humanity.
That was the difference between Ron and Hermione. From the view of a colleague, I watched his pain for three years as his marriage disintegrated, eventually leading to their divorce.
A bottle of whiskey and a particularly bad day, that’s what resulted in me sleeping with the last of the Weasley siblings. The comfort of having someone there next to us at night is probably why we have not stopped.
He will never love me instead of Hermione and I shall never ask him too. For surely that would mean I would have to love him instead of Remus.
Some may think it’s wrong, but I think that both of us understand that all humans need to be touched every now and again, even the broken ones.
