True Face - Moody/Tonks
Title: True Face
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me.
Author's note: Thanks to phineasjones for brilliance in beta.
This story is directly inspired by A Constant Regard by zeldadestry. I was so captivated by her Moody/Tonks, and so heart-broken by the ending that I had to imagine what might happen to these characters years after the events of her story.
Tonks imagines she must have worn thousands of faces over the years, some of them grotesque, some of them tediously average, but almost all of them completely different from what she has come to think of as her own. And even that changes by the day, a tweak of the nose, smaller eyebrows, brighter eyes. Tonks doesn't know how she looks underneath her everyday disguise, the one she can't ever completely get rid of, but she has tried to find out; walking past a mirror unexpectedly, turning at the right moment in front of a window reflection, like trying to catch her shadow. Asking people what they see when they look at her.
Tonks wonders whether it's a worthwhile trade-off; she can look like anybody, but she can never, ever look like herself.
She and Moody have to stop at 12 Grimmauld Place; it's become a storage area for paperwork and such that's safer there than within the Ministry. Tonks has never gotten used to going there. It's a house of secrets, was ever since she was a girl, a family home belonging to people she wasn't supposed to think of as her family. And then it became a place of hiding, empty except for Sirius, and then, after Sirius was gone, just empty. A place for Order meetings only when no other place would do.
She remembers finding Sirius alone in the library, drinking whiskey and sulking, and how he resisted being pulled into conversation, even about the past, even about Harry. She remembers another time, finding Remus and Sirius in there together, Remus with Sirius pressed up against a wall, their hands on each other's hips, Remus' mouth moving over Sirius', and how she had turned, embarrassed at having seen something she shouldn't have seen. How she ran right into Moody, who saw her blush, looked through the wall, saw what she was blushing at, nodded, and turned and walked the other way with her. Moody, whose body was firm and lean and familiar under her hands even when she was just bumping into him, Moody who she wanted to push up against a wall and kiss the way Remus and Sirius had done.
Moody, who she wasn't allowed to love. It was a weakness neither of them could afford.
She thinks she started to understand her feelings for him the first time they fought side by side, the first time she got to see Moody's true strength. He protected her and trusted her to take care of herself at the same time. She saw the determination on his face, drawn from years of doing this, keeping his friends alive, keeping himself alive. An old gladiator, strong and proud. A battle-scared hero.
And now, two years after the end of the war, when they no longer need to think in terms of weaknesses. When they no longer need to shut themselves off from every risk. Now, she's been loving and not loving Moody, wanting to be near him and keeping her distance for so long that she's not sure it will ever change.
Today, when they get to Grimmauld Place, one of the windows in the kitchen is open, and there's a teacup in the sink; someone's been there recently. She thinks she knows who. Someone who's suffered the kind of loss Tonks has been so carefully guarding against. Her thoughts flash to Marlene McKinnon, to Frank and Alice Longbottom. She pushes their faces out of her mind.
Moody goes to the third floor to get what they need - maps so they can get working on finding old Death Eater caches - and Tonks wonders if she should be alarmed how much of this work they still have to do after the war, or if she should be reassured that she will always have a purpose because there will always be dark wizards to catch.
Tonks searches through the kitchen cabinets because she doesn't know what else to do. She finds a tin of bitter-smelling tea leaves, probably what was used for the cup of tea in the sink, some stale crisps, and a box of instant-curry - just use a warming spell.
She remembers Order meetings, the lot of them packed into this kitchen, Molly Weasley's stew, the sweet smell of half-drunk bottles of butterbeer, the flurry of voices speaking over one another. The kitchen is so quiet now that the thunk of Moody's wooden leg echoes down the hallway, and the swish of the kitchen door opening makes her jump. Moody is holding two folded maps in his hands, and she waves the can of tea leaves in his direction and gives it a half-hearted shake.
"Let's not stay here longer than we have to," Moody says gruffly. "No matter how tempting that tea looks," he says, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
Moody lets her lead the way to her flat; Tonks has better tea, and a big table to unfold the maps on, and even bread, which she picked up at the bakery this morning, and they've done this so many times, as friends and colleagues, sharing each others lives. Though every time, Tonks remembers the one time things went differently. Every time Moody gives her his crooked half-smile, she remembers.
Tonks looks at Moody while the tea steeps and she slices the bread, thick, and gets out the butter. His face, the same as when she first met him. Hard to tell where the new scars are amid all the old ones.
She never been able to see a scar on her body, even from the worst of spells that tore into her. She can't quite remember where they hit her, underneath her skin. She wonders if there are even any marks there at all.
She jealous, sometimes, of Moody's war wounds, though she's never told him so. She's never been sure how to explain how much she wishes sometimes that there were things about her appearance that wouldn't change. How much she likes that Moody always looks like Moody. His grizzled hair, rough and thin under her fingers. His clenched jaw, his rough, dry lips, his warm and silky mouth - she tasted it once, her body pressed against his, wanting him so badly, and she doesn't know how she's going to do this anymore and -
She knocks over the bread knife and it clatters to the floor.
"You all right, lass?" Moody calls out, his chair scraping back as he stands up.
"Fine, Moody, sorry, just a klutz."
"Such a klutz," she remembers him whispering, right before....
She brings out the tea, the bread, and Moody pulls back the maps so she has room to set them down. "Did you test this bread for poison?"
"Moody," Tonks sighs. The truth was that Tonks had tested the bread for poisons, that she had selected that bakery as the safest after shopping at and rejecting three others. She's sure Moody knows by now how much of his caution, no matter how unwarranted, he's passed on to her. She's smiling when she offers, "I'll eat a slice first."
"No!" he says, and he takes out his wand and waves it at the loaf of bread. When he does not get the response he appears to be waiting for, he begins to butter a piece. "Looks safe enough," he mutters, and then hands Tonks a slice.
Moody waves his wand over the map, a few roads begin to glow and the others bend and coil out of the way. They're looking for a shortcut that's supposed to take them to an old Death Eater hideout, but the roads aren't giving up their secrets.
"Look at this," Moody says, tapping a knarled knuckle against one of the roads. "We missed that one before."
Tonks comes around to his side to get a better look, and they peer down at the map. She takes his wand and nudges the roads out of the way. "What about this one?" she says. Her shoulder bumps his, and she slides his wand back over the table. Their fingers brush.
"We should try both of them tomorrow," Moody says, his eyes focused on the map. He nods decisively, and they turn at the same time, into each other, Tonks laughs, and Moody tries to apologize and then their mouths are inches from each other.
"Oh," Tonks says, and Moody makes a choked sound. She feels his breathing pick up, can see his tongue darting out to wet his lips, and then his hand settles on her arm, gently pushing her away.
"Tonks," he says, the same familiar scolding.
"The war's over, Moody," she says, pulling back just a little to look at his face.
"I'm too old," he says, shaking his head, looking down at the map then beginning to fold it up. "I'll get going then."
"No," Tonks says. She reaches out and touches his face, turns him to face her, and then rushes forward to kiss him. He's still for a moment while her lips press against his, and then his hands find the back of her head and he pulls her towards him, opening his mouth, sliding their tongues together. Tonks can't help but moan. Her hands wrap around Moody's back, her fingers pressing into the fabric of his shirt.
This is entirely different from their first kiss. There's hardly a hesitation, there's nothing gentle, and Moody's making sounds she'd never thought she'd be able to hear. Encouraging sounds, and his body is moving against hers, rubbing against hers, his hands in her hair, cupping the back of her neck, his fingers caressing her jaw. It's perfect.
Except when Moody isn't kissing back anymore.
Tonks pulls back, crosses her arms across her chest. Her eyes fill with tears. "Don't do this to me, Moody," she says. "Don't give me this and then take it away."
"I don't have anything to give you. Never did."
She starts to argue, but Moody cups her face, his thumb caressing her cheek. "You're so beautiful," he whispers.
"Moody," she says, frustrated. "I don't even know what I look like -"
"But I do," he says. And she remembers how very powerful his magic eye really is. Moody's the only one who can see her true face. "You're always beautiful. Goodnight, Tonks," he says, letting his hands drop from her face as he heads for the door.
"Moody, wait," she says. He stops, and then slowly turns. She comes closer, and closer, until her body is flush with his. Moody's eyes widen, he stands up straighter, nervous. Tonks brings her face close to his. Her eyes dart to his mouth, back to his eyes. "Tell me," she says. "Tell me what I look like. Describe my face."
Moody's eyes close for a second, and then he looks at her. "Your nose is tiny, like a clover. You have distinguished cheekbones, long eye lashes, creamy white skin and the slightest dusting of freckles." As he talks, he touches her face, his fingers brushing over her cheekbones, her chin, her eyes, her jaw, stopping at her lips, lingering there. "Your mouth. Your lips are...."
And then he leans in and kisses her. Slowly, this time, exploring her mouth, like this, now, this is their first kiss. "I'm sorry," he says, between kisses. "I can't help myself." He kisses her forehead, her temples, the corner of her mouth, kisses her full on again. "Weakness," he murmurs. "Can't afford it. You and me, side by side," he says. "We have to...."
"Right," Tonks murmurs as her hands tug at Moody's collar and then she drags her teeth along his neck, licking at what she can reach of his collarbone. "Can't risk the vulnerability." There is only the sound of their breathing, the rustle of fabric as their bodies touch. This is Moody, finally, like she always imagined, but never like this, never this good, this real, his scent, his skin. Tonks is struck by how much she loves him, how deeply. "I can protect you," she says
Moody laughs. Low and deep, rich and full. Tonks feels his chest rumble against hers. "You'll protect me, eh?" he whispers into her ear. "Well, then." And then Moody's hands are sliding down the curves of her body. "You and me," he growls. "Side by side."
Tonks gasps out, "Yes," her hands pressing against Moody's back.
"You and me," he murmurs, and then his mouth is over hers again.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me.
Author's note: Thanks to phineasjones for brilliance in beta.
This story is directly inspired by A Constant Regard by zeldadestry. I was so captivated by her Moody/Tonks, and so heart-broken by the ending that I had to imagine what might happen to these characters years after the events of her story.
Tonks imagines she must have worn thousands of faces over the years, some of them grotesque, some of them tediously average, but almost all of them completely different from what she has come to think of as her own. And even that changes by the day, a tweak of the nose, smaller eyebrows, brighter eyes. Tonks doesn't know how she looks underneath her everyday disguise, the one she can't ever completely get rid of, but she has tried to find out; walking past a mirror unexpectedly, turning at the right moment in front of a window reflection, like trying to catch her shadow. Asking people what they see when they look at her.
Tonks wonders whether it's a worthwhile trade-off; she can look like anybody, but she can never, ever look like herself.
She and Moody have to stop at 12 Grimmauld Place; it's become a storage area for paperwork and such that's safer there than within the Ministry. Tonks has never gotten used to going there. It's a house of secrets, was ever since she was a girl, a family home belonging to people she wasn't supposed to think of as her family. And then it became a place of hiding, empty except for Sirius, and then, after Sirius was gone, just empty. A place for Order meetings only when no other place would do.
She remembers finding Sirius alone in the library, drinking whiskey and sulking, and how he resisted being pulled into conversation, even about the past, even about Harry. She remembers another time, finding Remus and Sirius in there together, Remus with Sirius pressed up against a wall, their hands on each other's hips, Remus' mouth moving over Sirius', and how she had turned, embarrassed at having seen something she shouldn't have seen. How she ran right into Moody, who saw her blush, looked through the wall, saw what she was blushing at, nodded, and turned and walked the other way with her. Moody, whose body was firm and lean and familiar under her hands even when she was just bumping into him, Moody who she wanted to push up against a wall and kiss the way Remus and Sirius had done.
Moody, who she wasn't allowed to love. It was a weakness neither of them could afford.
She thinks she started to understand her feelings for him the first time they fought side by side, the first time she got to see Moody's true strength. He protected her and trusted her to take care of herself at the same time. She saw the determination on his face, drawn from years of doing this, keeping his friends alive, keeping himself alive. An old gladiator, strong and proud. A battle-scared hero.
And now, two years after the end of the war, when they no longer need to think in terms of weaknesses. When they no longer need to shut themselves off from every risk. Now, she's been loving and not loving Moody, wanting to be near him and keeping her distance for so long that she's not sure it will ever change.
Today, when they get to Grimmauld Place, one of the windows in the kitchen is open, and there's a teacup in the sink; someone's been there recently. She thinks she knows who. Someone who's suffered the kind of loss Tonks has been so carefully guarding against. Her thoughts flash to Marlene McKinnon, to Frank and Alice Longbottom. She pushes their faces out of her mind.
Moody goes to the third floor to get what they need - maps so they can get working on finding old Death Eater caches - and Tonks wonders if she should be alarmed how much of this work they still have to do after the war, or if she should be reassured that she will always have a purpose because there will always be dark wizards to catch.
Tonks searches through the kitchen cabinets because she doesn't know what else to do. She finds a tin of bitter-smelling tea leaves, probably what was used for the cup of tea in the sink, some stale crisps, and a box of instant-curry - just use a warming spell.
She remembers Order meetings, the lot of them packed into this kitchen, Molly Weasley's stew, the sweet smell of half-drunk bottles of butterbeer, the flurry of voices speaking over one another. The kitchen is so quiet now that the thunk of Moody's wooden leg echoes down the hallway, and the swish of the kitchen door opening makes her jump. Moody is holding two folded maps in his hands, and she waves the can of tea leaves in his direction and gives it a half-hearted shake.
"Let's not stay here longer than we have to," Moody says gruffly. "No matter how tempting that tea looks," he says, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
Moody lets her lead the way to her flat; Tonks has better tea, and a big table to unfold the maps on, and even bread, which she picked up at the bakery this morning, and they've done this so many times, as friends and colleagues, sharing each others lives. Though every time, Tonks remembers the one time things went differently. Every time Moody gives her his crooked half-smile, she remembers.
Tonks looks at Moody while the tea steeps and she slices the bread, thick, and gets out the butter. His face, the same as when she first met him. Hard to tell where the new scars are amid all the old ones.
She never been able to see a scar on her body, even from the worst of spells that tore into her. She can't quite remember where they hit her, underneath her skin. She wonders if there are even any marks there at all.
She jealous, sometimes, of Moody's war wounds, though she's never told him so. She's never been sure how to explain how much she wishes sometimes that there were things about her appearance that wouldn't change. How much she likes that Moody always looks like Moody. His grizzled hair, rough and thin under her fingers. His clenched jaw, his rough, dry lips, his warm and silky mouth - she tasted it once, her body pressed against his, wanting him so badly, and she doesn't know how she's going to do this anymore and -
She knocks over the bread knife and it clatters to the floor.
"You all right, lass?" Moody calls out, his chair scraping back as he stands up.
"Fine, Moody, sorry, just a klutz."
"Such a klutz," she remembers him whispering, right before....
She brings out the tea, the bread, and Moody pulls back the maps so she has room to set them down. "Did you test this bread for poison?"
"Moody," Tonks sighs. The truth was that Tonks had tested the bread for poisons, that she had selected that bakery as the safest after shopping at and rejecting three others. She's sure Moody knows by now how much of his caution, no matter how unwarranted, he's passed on to her. She's smiling when she offers, "I'll eat a slice first."
"No!" he says, and he takes out his wand and waves it at the loaf of bread. When he does not get the response he appears to be waiting for, he begins to butter a piece. "Looks safe enough," he mutters, and then hands Tonks a slice.
Moody waves his wand over the map, a few roads begin to glow and the others bend and coil out of the way. They're looking for a shortcut that's supposed to take them to an old Death Eater hideout, but the roads aren't giving up their secrets.
"Look at this," Moody says, tapping a knarled knuckle against one of the roads. "We missed that one before."
Tonks comes around to his side to get a better look, and they peer down at the map. She takes his wand and nudges the roads out of the way. "What about this one?" she says. Her shoulder bumps his, and she slides his wand back over the table. Their fingers brush.
"We should try both of them tomorrow," Moody says, his eyes focused on the map. He nods decisively, and they turn at the same time, into each other, Tonks laughs, and Moody tries to apologize and then their mouths are inches from each other.
"Oh," Tonks says, and Moody makes a choked sound. She feels his breathing pick up, can see his tongue darting out to wet his lips, and then his hand settles on her arm, gently pushing her away.
"Tonks," he says, the same familiar scolding.
"The war's over, Moody," she says, pulling back just a little to look at his face.
"I'm too old," he says, shaking his head, looking down at the map then beginning to fold it up. "I'll get going then."
"No," Tonks says. She reaches out and touches his face, turns him to face her, and then rushes forward to kiss him. He's still for a moment while her lips press against his, and then his hands find the back of her head and he pulls her towards him, opening his mouth, sliding their tongues together. Tonks can't help but moan. Her hands wrap around Moody's back, her fingers pressing into the fabric of his shirt.
This is entirely different from their first kiss. There's hardly a hesitation, there's nothing gentle, and Moody's making sounds she'd never thought she'd be able to hear. Encouraging sounds, and his body is moving against hers, rubbing against hers, his hands in her hair, cupping the back of her neck, his fingers caressing her jaw. It's perfect.
Except when Moody isn't kissing back anymore.
Tonks pulls back, crosses her arms across her chest. Her eyes fill with tears. "Don't do this to me, Moody," she says. "Don't give me this and then take it away."
"I don't have anything to give you. Never did."
She starts to argue, but Moody cups her face, his thumb caressing her cheek. "You're so beautiful," he whispers.
"Moody," she says, frustrated. "I don't even know what I look like -"
"But I do," he says. And she remembers how very powerful his magic eye really is. Moody's the only one who can see her true face. "You're always beautiful. Goodnight, Tonks," he says, letting his hands drop from her face as he heads for the door.
"Moody, wait," she says. He stops, and then slowly turns. She comes closer, and closer, until her body is flush with his. Moody's eyes widen, he stands up straighter, nervous. Tonks brings her face close to his. Her eyes dart to his mouth, back to his eyes. "Tell me," she says. "Tell me what I look like. Describe my face."
Moody's eyes close for a second, and then he looks at her. "Your nose is tiny, like a clover. You have distinguished cheekbones, long eye lashes, creamy white skin and the slightest dusting of freckles." As he talks, he touches her face, his fingers brushing over her cheekbones, her chin, her eyes, her jaw, stopping at her lips, lingering there. "Your mouth. Your lips are...."
And then he leans in and kisses her. Slowly, this time, exploring her mouth, like this, now, this is their first kiss. "I'm sorry," he says, between kisses. "I can't help myself." He kisses her forehead, her temples, the corner of her mouth, kisses her full on again. "Weakness," he murmurs. "Can't afford it. You and me, side by side," he says. "We have to...."
"Right," Tonks murmurs as her hands tug at Moody's collar and then she drags her teeth along his neck, licking at what she can reach of his collarbone. "Can't risk the vulnerability." There is only the sound of their breathing, the rustle of fabric as their bodies touch. This is Moody, finally, like she always imagined, but never like this, never this good, this real, his scent, his skin. Tonks is struck by how much she loves him, how deeply. "I can protect you," she says
Moody laughs. Low and deep, rich and full. Tonks feels his chest rumble against hers. "You'll protect me, eh?" he whispers into her ear. "Well, then." And then Moody's hands are sliding down the curves of her body. "You and me," he growls. "Side by side."
Tonks gasps out, "Yes," her hands pressing against Moody's back.
"You and me," he murmurs, and then his mouth is over hers again.