Afraid to remember, what has not been forgotten. Part Three.
Date: April 4th into 5th, 2000
Time: From 4pm into 11am
Location: Liverpool, Tonks' bedroom
Characters Involved: Tonks
Rating: PG-13 for sexual insinuations
Complete
She didn’t know how long she had slept. She had not known the hour when sleep took her, nor when exactly the sleeping potion was spilt and devoured. She did not even see if the sun had set, already having the curtains over her window closed tight. She did not know what else to do- how else to spend an endless day of nightmares that came from memories.
Her homework did not distract her, nor could it retain her attention for more than a minute. Her parents had cared for her and requested she join them for dinner when it was ready, after she receptively told them she felt ill. They left her alone when she finally hid behind her bedroom door. Her journal lay beside her bed, yet she did not wish to call for aid while her mind wept and her soul hung itself by a thread of memory.
Quickly she had hunted down the last remaining bottles of sleeping draught she had bought weeks before. Just two bottles left, and this made her realize she would have to get more. Tonks placed herself on her bed, and downed one instantly. It hushed her to sleep- cradled her in it’s arms of peace, until well past the sun’s last rays. When she stirred awake, and noticed her room was darker and the house was quiet- her hands found the second bottle, and poured it into her empty stomach. This one did not ease her spirit as quickly as the last did. It did not cradle or caress her to a sleeping still. Instead, her stomach twisted with hunger, her body sweated with warmth, and her spirit was restless and agitated. Perhaps this had caused the nightmare. Perhaps she should not have slept so much. But Tonks could not find a better distraction, and for her carelessness, she would pay with her mind.
“Are you sure…. you want to do this?”
“Yes.” I have wanted to for so long.
“I-I didn’t expect anything when I asked you to meet me…”
“I said yes…didn’t I?” No more words. Please.
Icy trails of sweat were smoothed and gripped within thin, white, feminine hands, over stripped, tense muscles of shoulders and back. Perfectly manicured nails dug gently into flesh, bracing and straining from arms that shook and begged to hold, clasping a body above them. A tenacious snare, a scared unbridled embrace, against the slickly glazed form of limbs, over a fragile thing.
A symphony of breathing berated silence, as a mixed pair of lungs compressed under a stressful pulse, decided by the rhythm of bodies, coupled together. Heartbeats danced out of sync, when a barren chest pressed against the one beneath it, driving more breaths to wade passed trembling lips that carried them forth in raging gasps. A natural response, a known sound, but unknown to they that do not dance, as two bodies did, to compose the ragged breaths of reaction. To breathe is to live, and with each exhale fallen from unexpected pain, it felt like death. Sounded like death, quacking beneath a powerful being, stripping every inhale away with motion. The motions that wrote the melody.
“Am I hurting you?”
“No.”
Lies and deceit are masked by a touch of unknown life, in the form and action of the man above her. No touch did he allow with his hands, for they used themselves to keep him close, supporting his looming body over hers. Yet he was touching her, while his brown eyes caught hers demandingly, his composition of flesh and bone was welcomed by hers. A bittersweet welcoming, which broke barriers and caused displeasure, but was laced with invisible energy that swelled within her muscles. The energy kept her steady, instead of making her hunch away, turn away from his eyes and his enclosure, even when she felt afraid. Her hands would not let go, while they continued to slip from his back, they scrambled over as quickly as they could, scared of losing the support they felt over his sweating skin.
If the moments were not long, she did not notice, she was too constrained by her own whispered screams to notice a simple thing like time. Something nonmalignant, something destitute of all words, had braced her form with a mythical thing not ever felt before. She could not control herself, she would not, as her breath was vocal, and her body shook. The body over her also shook and matched something verbal against her cry, which he thoughtlessly pronounced through heaving breathing.
“Yvonne.”
Tonks awoke suddenly, as a ghostly voice was haunting her ears, using a word that she could not listen to. She fell out of bed, gasping and fighting to scream out and stop the whispering name from being heard. Her arms and legs forced her to scramble to her window, and pulled herself up to press her hands against the glass and demand the window open. She was sweating from head to toe, and her mind was burning with fear. Tears started to fall, much like the one’s spilt in her nightmare, adding another link of remembrance to what she had just witnessed, to what she had done. The cold air chilled her moist limbs, and it felt as if it would freeze the pain away. Tonks closed her eyes and turned her face aside, welcoming the breeze to remove the grim dirt she felt was on her. She could still feel an foreign sweat upon her, and trails of breaths not of hers, over her neck and face.
When the chill was potent, she opened her eyes- knowing the mirror would be in front of her. She was scared to see herself distraught, painted by a hushed moonlight, allowed through her open window. Her eyes forced a casual glance into the mirror, to find the appearance she knew to be disheveled, desiring it to be planted in vision. Only when she caught sight of herself, and could make out the form in the mirror, she let out a scream. A breathless, frozen, nightmarish scream spilt, when her eyes assessed the reflection. Black hair was flowing over her naked body, eyes of blue fished through the dark shadows, and her skin was paler than a ghost.
The scream broke out through the haze of weary dreams and sickening nightmares, and pulled her truthfully awake from her bed, covered in sweat as she thought she had been, but now it was sunlight that drove out the shadows and greeted her scream.
Time: From 4pm into 11am
Location: Liverpool, Tonks' bedroom
Characters Involved: Tonks
Rating: PG-13 for sexual insinuations
Complete
She didn’t know how long she had slept. She had not known the hour when sleep took her, nor when exactly the sleeping potion was spilt and devoured. She did not even see if the sun had set, already having the curtains over her window closed tight. She did not know what else to do- how else to spend an endless day of nightmares that came from memories.
Her homework did not distract her, nor could it retain her attention for more than a minute. Her parents had cared for her and requested she join them for dinner when it was ready, after she receptively told them she felt ill. They left her alone when she finally hid behind her bedroom door. Her journal lay beside her bed, yet she did not wish to call for aid while her mind wept and her soul hung itself by a thread of memory.
Quickly she had hunted down the last remaining bottles of sleeping draught she had bought weeks before. Just two bottles left, and this made her realize she would have to get more. Tonks placed herself on her bed, and downed one instantly. It hushed her to sleep- cradled her in it’s arms of peace, until well past the sun’s last rays. When she stirred awake, and noticed her room was darker and the house was quiet- her hands found the second bottle, and poured it into her empty stomach. This one did not ease her spirit as quickly as the last did. It did not cradle or caress her to a sleeping still. Instead, her stomach twisted with hunger, her body sweated with warmth, and her spirit was restless and agitated. Perhaps this had caused the nightmare. Perhaps she should not have slept so much. But Tonks could not find a better distraction, and for her carelessness, she would pay with her mind.
“Are you sure…. you want to do this?”
“Yes.” I have wanted to for so long.
“I-I didn’t expect anything when I asked you to meet me…”
“I said yes…didn’t I?” No more words. Please.
Icy trails of sweat were smoothed and gripped within thin, white, feminine hands, over stripped, tense muscles of shoulders and back. Perfectly manicured nails dug gently into flesh, bracing and straining from arms that shook and begged to hold, clasping a body above them. A tenacious snare, a scared unbridled embrace, against the slickly glazed form of limbs, over a fragile thing.
A symphony of breathing berated silence, as a mixed pair of lungs compressed under a stressful pulse, decided by the rhythm of bodies, coupled together. Heartbeats danced out of sync, when a barren chest pressed against the one beneath it, driving more breaths to wade passed trembling lips that carried them forth in raging gasps. A natural response, a known sound, but unknown to they that do not dance, as two bodies did, to compose the ragged breaths of reaction. To breathe is to live, and with each exhale fallen from unexpected pain, it felt like death. Sounded like death, quacking beneath a powerful being, stripping every inhale away with motion. The motions that wrote the melody.
“Am I hurting you?”
“No.”
Lies and deceit are masked by a touch of unknown life, in the form and action of the man above her. No touch did he allow with his hands, for they used themselves to keep him close, supporting his looming body over hers. Yet he was touching her, while his brown eyes caught hers demandingly, his composition of flesh and bone was welcomed by hers. A bittersweet welcoming, which broke barriers and caused displeasure, but was laced with invisible energy that swelled within her muscles. The energy kept her steady, instead of making her hunch away, turn away from his eyes and his enclosure, even when she felt afraid. Her hands would not let go, while they continued to slip from his back, they scrambled over as quickly as they could, scared of losing the support they felt over his sweating skin.
If the moments were not long, she did not notice, she was too constrained by her own whispered screams to notice a simple thing like time. Something nonmalignant, something destitute of all words, had braced her form with a mythical thing not ever felt before. She could not control herself, she would not, as her breath was vocal, and her body shook. The body over her also shook and matched something verbal against her cry, which he thoughtlessly pronounced through heaving breathing.
“Yvonne.”
Tonks awoke suddenly, as a ghostly voice was haunting her ears, using a word that she could not listen to. She fell out of bed, gasping and fighting to scream out and stop the whispering name from being heard. Her arms and legs forced her to scramble to her window, and pulled herself up to press her hands against the glass and demand the window open. She was sweating from head to toe, and her mind was burning with fear. Tears started to fall, much like the one’s spilt in her nightmare, adding another link of remembrance to what she had just witnessed, to what she had done. The cold air chilled her moist limbs, and it felt as if it would freeze the pain away. Tonks closed her eyes and turned her face aside, welcoming the breeze to remove the grim dirt she felt was on her. She could still feel an foreign sweat upon her, and trails of breaths not of hers, over her neck and face.
When the chill was potent, she opened her eyes- knowing the mirror would be in front of her. She was scared to see herself distraught, painted by a hushed moonlight, allowed through her open window. Her eyes forced a casual glance into the mirror, to find the appearance she knew to be disheveled, desiring it to be planted in vision. Only when she caught sight of herself, and could make out the form in the mirror, she let out a scream. A breathless, frozen, nightmarish scream spilt, when her eyes assessed the reflection. Black hair was flowing over her naked body, eyes of blue fished through the dark shadows, and her skin was paler than a ghost.
The scream broke out through the haze of weary dreams and sickening nightmares, and pulled her truthfully awake from her bed, covered in sweat as she thought she had been, but now it was sunlight that drove out the shadows and greeted her scream.