Amortentia

Around a month later, after several spillages and accidents, courtesy of Tonks’ clumsiness and she was once again concealed behind her bed hangings. This time, she had a tightly corked flask of Amortentia in her hands. Her impeccable planning meant that she had a detention with Snape tonight (for knocking over three different cauldrons in one lesson) so she would put her Amortentia to work very soon.

After checking herself over in the dormitory mirror, she began the trek down to Snape’s dungeon office with an eager spring in her step.
A short while later, she was knocking on the door of his office, positively burning with excitement.

“Enter,” commanded a curt voice from within.

Snape’s office looked exactly as grim as it normally did, except this night, Tonks’ fluorescent pink hair shone through the gloom.

“Sit,” ordered Snape, and she did.

Tonks watched him with eager eyes as he walked around the office, taking a bottle or two from one shelf or a jar of something from another.
‘He looks different tonight,’ she thought. ‘Has he washed his hair? No, probably not.’
She struggled to stifle a giggle. Snape turned around.

“Yes?” he said, eyebrows raised.

“Nothing, Professor,” she replied, a little breathlessly.

He continued to gather jars and bottles. After several minutes had passed, he crossed the office and stood directly in front of Tonks. Her lips twitched as the battled the impulse to giggle again.

“You will,” he began, “sort these ingredients-“ he slammed a few jars onto the desk, “and re-label all of them-“ he conjured a quill out of thin air and caught it before slamming that down onto the desk too, “without magic,” he finished.

“Yes, Professor.”

As per usual when she was in the company of Professor Snape, Tonks had a hard time concentrating. She sorted herbs and re-labelled reptile entrails for an hour, taking frequent pauses to glance up at Snape. As he turned to face the shelves once more, Tonks whipped her flask of Amortentia from beneath her robes and uncorked it, tipping it into a half empty flagon of water on Snape’s desk.

‘He has to drink sometime, right?’ she thought.

And sure enough, he did. After what felt like another hour, but was probably several minutes, Snape resumed his position behind the desk. In what felt like slow motion, he gripped the tankard and drained it.

Tonks stopped sorting herbs and dared herself to look up. Snape didn’t look any different. Suddenly, she panicked.
‘He is Potions Master, after all. He could probably smell it or something. Damn.’

Pause. She continued to look at Snape. Then-

“Nymphadora,” he said, in a soft, silky tone that was not steeped in danger or sarcasm but tenderness, of all things.
Tonks smiled.

“Severus,” she answered, hardly daring to believe her luck. She walked around the desk to stand closer to him. This close, she realised she was far shorter than him. This was solved, however, as he wrapped his hands around her waist and hoisted her onto the desk. This time, she did not hide her giggle.

What followed next felt surreal. They kissed; at first softly, and then with passion. Real, on her part, artificial, on his. He ran his hands over her body, and she shivered slightly. She had never been touched like this before, not by her ill-fated teen boyfriends, anyway. Once, she thought of running her hands through his hair, like people did in films. ‘No, better not…’

And it was wonderful, caught in a potion induced embrace on Severus Snape’s desk. Normally, she hated being addressed by her first name, but as Snape whispered “Nymphadora, Nymphadora,” between kisses, she couldn’t help but enjoy it. He seemed to desire her to the point of helplessness.
‘And of course, he probably is helpless,’ Tonks thought to herself, but she was having too much fun to feel uneasy.

After what felt like only minutes, but was probably a far longer stretch of time, they broke apart. She rested her head against his shoulder as they sat on the desk, her pink hair almost glowing against the black of his robes. She felt dangerously happy. He began to run his hands through her hair again, but she ducked from under his arms.

“Listen, Professor…um, Severus, whichever you prefer,” she began, “it’s after nine o’ clock and I need to be back in my dormitory now.”
‘God, that sounds pathetic,’ she thought.

Heading towards the door, she turned and said; “Oh…and goodnight.”

Tonks backed out of the office and practically skipped up the sloping dungeon corridor.
“Nymphadora?”

Tonks froze. His voice. But it had none of the softness of a few minutes ago. She turned on the spot, her heart racing.

Snape was standing at the door of his office, the misty and helpless look gone from his eyes, replaced by a triumphant glitter. He held up the empty flagon.

“Pity water makes Amortentia useless. Pity,” he smirked. “Perhaps you should pay more attention in lessons.”

Tonks opened her mouth to reply, hot embarrassment creeping up inside her, mingling with disbelief. She could feel her cheeks burning.

“I…oh…er…” she stammered.

Then something, something incredibly obvious seemed to slap her around the face. A spark of confidence in her voice, she retorted;

“Then why the act, Professor?”

Her voice strengthened with defiance.

“Why not just humiliate me right away?”

“Why the act indeed,” he replied, his voice calm. He leaned forward a little. “I thought you might have worked that out. Detention, Nymphadora. Tomorrow night, my office.”

But he said these words without threat or reprimand. Instead, a satisfied smirk was playing on his lips.

Nymphadora Tonks shuffled back to Hufflepuff common room in disbelief. There she sat for several hours, considering what had just happened, her face a perfect picture of shock and delight.