What Happens In the Changing Room

What Happens In the Changing Room  

ONE - What Happens In the Changing Room

A/N: I'd like to blame this on Loralu, but she merely provided some inspirational photographs. The rest of it... all me... The time frame is Ginny's first professional Quidditch game with the Harpies. The referee allowed Ginny two minutes to warm up. She didn't hear the murmurs of surprise coming from the crowd. She did hear the whoops of glee from her brothers. Reserve Chasers didn't normally come in as Seekers, but Gwenog had stared her in the eye and made a small gesture with her head, as if to say, 'Can you do it?' Ginny felt her stomach flip, but she nodded. Gwenog had made her play every position at least once during practices. If anything, Gwenog loved a team with versatility. Most of them could play at least one other position passably, if not well. Ginny swooped by the family box and slowed enough to toss a cheeky grin to Harry and give her parents and brothers a small wave. Molly looked anxious, but attempted to smile at her, while Arthur beamed proudly, returning her wave enthusiastically. Harry… Harry's gaze was something altogether different. He nodded with approval and something else she couldn't quite put her finger on, but the referee blew his whistle, signaling the end of her warm-up, and Ginny sighed with no small regret and directed her broom toward the ground. She landed next to her teammates, huddled together on the pitch. 'Caerphilly's Seeker isn't very aggressive,' Marion, one of the Chasers murmured. 'She was in a bad crash a few months ago and hasn't quite gotten her nerve back yet.' 'Nobody's asking you to knock her off her broom,' Gwenog said swiftly, giving Marion a censorious glare. 'Well, of course not,' chuckled Caroline, the Keeper. 'But you can use it to your advantage,' she told Ginny. 'Their Seeker gets a bit spooked if anyone's flying too close.' Gwenog studied Caerphilly's team for a moment. 'I think she might get pulled soon,' she mused. 'In that case, their Reserve Seeker's fair, but…' She trailed off. 'He's all right,' interjected Mandy, one of the Beaters. 'Been on the Reserve squad for ages, hasn't he?' Helen, the other Beater snickered. 'He's too slow,' she scoffed. 'But it's not his fault,' she said mockingly. 'Never is,' sighed Anna, the third Chaser. 'Mind yourself if they put him in the game,' she warned Ginny. 'He's not above shoving you off your broom, or leading you into a chase that'll put you in the path of a Bludger.' 'He ought to play for Falmouth, but he isn't good enough,' Mandy added. The shrill whistle of the referee pierced their ears. 'Time's up,' he said and threw the Quaffle into the air. Ginny launched herself into the skies, filled with exhilaration. She flew over the pitch, her plait flying behind her, robes billowing with the autumn breeze. She paused for a moment, scanning for the Snitch. Is that it? she wondered, seeing a glint of gold. Directing her broom into a steep dive, she zoomed toward it, coming close, but not dangerously so, to the Caerphilly Seeker. The woman shrieked and nearly fell off her broom. She clutched at it, but her fingers closed on the empty space in front of the handle, and she went hurtling toward the grass below them. The referee pointed his wand at her, slowing her motion, until she landed gently on the pitch. There was a heated discussion between the Seeker and her captain that culminated in the Seeker flouncing off the pitch past a man standing hopefully with his broom. The referee blew his whistle and announced a player change. They allowed him a few minutes to warm up, as they had for Ginny, then the game resumed. Ginny began to fly in random patterns over the pitch, her eyes darting around the other players, dodging the Chasers and Beaters, keeping a corner of her attention constantly on the opposing Seeker, all the while searching… constantly searching for a glint of silver or gold in the sunlight. She sensed, rather than saw, the Caerphilly Seeker's striped bright green and scarlet robes in her peripheral vision. He swooped in Ginny's direction, but she hooked an ankle around the broom and tilted over in a sloth roll, avoiding being knocked off her broom. She threw him an indignant glare, then pulled her broom up into a loop that put her behind him. She

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continued to zigzag around the pitch, scanning for the Snitch, diving or streaking toward it. She had only a vague idea of what the score happened to be, and didn't hear the roar of the spectators at all. Her world had narrowed to the desperate, silent struggle to catch the Snitch before the other Seeker did. She traded shove for shove with him, knocking his grasping hand away from her. Suddenly, Ginny shot straight up, kicking at the other Seeker's hands as they tried to grab her broom. She pried one hand off the handle and her hand closed around the Snitch, its fluttering wings sending vibrations through her arm. Ginny howled in triumph, drifting toward the ground, the wings protruding through her clenched fingers. She stood in the center of the pitch, her fist thrust over her head, searching the family box for Harry, calculating how long it would take the two of them to extricate themselves from the rest of the family and make their way back to her tiny flat in Holyhead. Ginny was soon inundated by her teammates, an eddy of stillness in the jostling tumble of dark-green robes. 'Press'll want to talk to you,' Gwenog rasped over the gleeful shouts of the team. 'Why?' Ginny asked. 'How often does a Reserve Chaser come in as a Seeker and win?' Gwenog chuckled. 'Come on.' She led Ginny to the area in front of the Harpies changing rooms where a boisterous group of people already waited. Harry stood to one side, leaning with studied casualness against the wall, eyeing the press with a wary expression. Ginny darted to him, beaming, with the same hard light in her eyes that he had seen as she ran at him across the common room after she helped Gryffindor win the Quidditch Cup her fifth year. 'Where are the others?' she asked, searching the area behind him. 'Charlie's taken them to a pub for dinner,' he murmured. 'I've been sent to take you over after you're done here.' A slow smile spread over Ginny's face. 'Brilliant.' It was only the buzz of the people and the flashes of light from cameras behind them that prevented Ginny from leaping into Harry's arms. 'Miss Weasley! Miss Weasley!' one of the reporters shouted. Ginny squeezed Harry's hand and rose on her toes, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. 'Don't go anywhere,' she ordered, allowing the hand that wasn't in view of the reporters to roam familiarly over his bum. She gave it a surreptitious squeeze before she turned to the phalanx of waiting reporters. Harry's eyes widened in surprise. While it was true he and Ginny occasionally engaged in public displays of affection, they had never been quite so brazen. Harry resumed his nonchalant pose against the side of the building that housed the Captain's office, players' lounge, and changing room and let his attention focus on Ginny. She had pulled the outer robes off in deference to the unseasonable September warmth and chatted amiably with the reporters. His eyes traveled slowly down to her toes and back up. School Quidditch uniforms were made in general sizes and students hoped they could find one that didn't make them feel as if they were drowning in it. The one she wore now seemed as if it had been made specifically for her. Every curve was visible, outlined in the deep green of the jumper and tightly-fitted tan trousers. Her cheeks were flushed with the pleasure of winning the game. Harry's eyes narrowed as he sidled closer to Ginny, scowling slightly at the male reporters. He could see them eyeing Ginny. She was oblivious to it, of course. She wasn't meant to see the quick once-over they gave her. Harry knew that trick. He's used it himself on several occasions. He saw one of the photographers give Ginny an appreciative glance, lingering over her bottom. Harry quietly moved nearer to the man and let his scowl deepen while he conspicuously cleared his throat, uncrossing his arms to shake his wand into his hand from the holster hidden in his shirt sleeve. The photographer's gaze swiveled toward Harry, then immediately dropped to his camera, fiddling with a few buttons and switches. Yeah, that's right, Harry thought with a smirk. I could hex you into next week without thinking about it. He caught Ginny's eyes and smiled at her. She grinned impishly at him, tossing the end of her plait over her shoulder. Ginny's toes curled inside her boots. She could see Harry from the corner of her eye, glowering at the poor photographer. It nearly made her laugh out loud, but she contented herself with grin, lifting the heavy plait off the back of her neck, tilting her head slightly to one side, exposing her neck in veiled invitation. Harry loved to nibble the skin just under her ear. Winning Quidditch games always made her feel giddy, but winning this one had aroused her nearly to the point of incoherent thought. She was amazed she could still answer the reporters' questions and smile for the cameras when all she wanted to do was drag Harry back to her flat and have her way with him. She could see Harry, making his way around the edge of the group of reporters, pacing slowly, as if he were stalking his prey. He is… she chuckled to herself. file:///C|/Users/user/Documents/fanfic/What%20Happens%20In%20the%20Changing%20Room.htm[26/02/2011 15:37:00]

Gwenog stepped in front of Ginny. 'All right, that's enough. Let the heroine of the day go celebrate.' She gently pushed Ginny toward the building. Ginny headed for the door, and deliberately met Harry's gaze, tilting her head in the direction of the building. Harry immediately took a few steps forward, but hesitated, eyes flicking toward the mass of reporters. Ginny subtly gestured once more for him to join her, a coy smile spreading over her face. Harry glanced at the reporters and once he was assured they weren't paying him the slightest bit of attention, quickly slipped inside the building after Ginny. Ginny turned to him as soon as the door closed behind them, and wound her fingers into his hair, pulling his head down, pressing her lips to his, her teeth gently closing on his lower lip before she deepened the kiss. The kiss broke and Harry breathed, 'Blimey… What brought that on?' 'Winning,' Ginny told him, as she began to work his jacket down his arms. Harry chuckled against her mouth and returned the kiss. 'Winning is good.' 'So is this,' Ginny murmured, shoving the jacket to the floor and attacking the buttons of his shirt, pulling the tails from his trousers. 'What are you doing?' Harry whispered, scandalized. Ginny looked up at him, panting, her eyes glazed with something between love and lust. 'Please,' she said quietly. 'I want… I need to…' She slid a button through the buttonhole. 'I need you,' she breathed. Harry let his hands rest on either side of her waist, fingers splayed over the curve of her hips. His head jerked back toward the door. 'Anyone could walk in,' he muttered uncertainly. Ginny's smile turned alluringly wicked. 'I know.' Harry's eyes widened. 'Oh…' 'Come on, Harry…' Ginny tugged at his hand, leading him into the changing room. She stopped at her locker and slipped something into the pocket of her trousers, then continued into the steamy tiled bathroom. Shower cubicles lined one wall. Their frosted glass doors hung ajar, indicating they were vacant. Ginny unlaced her boots and kicked them off, peeling the thick socks away and tossing them into the laundry bin in the corner. She took the hem of her jumper in her hands and pulled it over her head, then reached into the pocket of her trousers, putting the square foil packet between her teeth. Her trousers joined the jumper on the floor and she stood in front of Harry, clad only in matching dark green knickers and a bra, trimmed in gold. 'Even your knickers match the team uniform?' he blurted. 'Bloody hell…' Ginny just winked and reached for the buttons of his shirt, unfastening the rest of them. She yanked the shirt off his arms and threw it to the floor and began to work on his trousers, her movements growing increasingly frantic. Especially once she felt Harry's teeth begin to nibble the skin behind her ear. His hands batted her fumbling ones away from his zipper, and he roughly shoved his trousers to the floor, growling with frustration when they caught on his shoes. He impatiently toed his shoes off and jerked his trousers off, taking the socks with them. Ginny backed into a cubicle, towing Harry after her. She twisted the tap, sending hot water flowing over them both. Harry firmly shut the door behind them and pulled the foil square from Ginny's teeth. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of his sodden boxers and pushed them down his legs to land at his feet with a splat. Harry reached behind Ginny and deftly unhooked her bra with one hand and she let it fall to the floor, gasping involuntarily as Harry's teeth closed around her nipple. His hand slid over her stomach and to her back, gliding into the back of her knickers, fingers curving over her bottom, slowly working them over her hips and down her thighs, his fingers dipping briefly between them, eliciting another startled gasp from Ginny. Eyes narrowed, Ginny took the condom back from Harry, ripping it open with her teeth, and quickly smoothing it over his erection. Harry considered lifting her, and taking her standing upright, but his feet slid a little on the slippery tiles. Instead, he grabbed one of Ginny's arms and turned her around, so she faced the wall. He laced his fingers through hers and bent her forward slightly, sliding into her with a grunt. Ginny nearly cried out, her nails digging into her palms. One of Harry's arms wound around her waist, his chest pressed against her back. Ginny pulled her hands from Harry's grasp and braced them against the wall, arching her back. Every thrust made her moan, the soft mews echoing off the walls. She threw her head back

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as tremors rippled over her, hushed keens reverberating around them. Harry's arm convulsed around her waist as he climaxed. He let his head fall to her shoulder, breathing harshly. He took a few steps backward until his back hit the opposite wall, and he slid to the floor, taking Ginny with him. Ginny's head rested against his shoulder and she tilted her face toward the shower spray. 'You need to come to all my games…' she breathed weakly.  

TWO – Forgiveness

A/N: I had intended Changing Room to be a one-shot, but given my proclivity for allowing the characters of the HP-verse to do inappropriate things in inappropriate places, I was bound to think of a few other situations. *blush* *koff* Merry Christmas. xxxxxx Tonks restlessly kicked the confining sheet away from her body. She was hot and cranky and immensely tired of being cooped up in the house. She was especially weary of the tension building between her mother and her husband in the past two weeks. It didn't help her hormones were raging so that she felt out of control and cursed herself. She'd asked Remus to come back, but had yet to forgive him for leaving. So he slept in the spare bedroom in deference to her wishes. She mentally kicked herself for that. Tonks glared at the window she couldn't open – correction – wasn't allowed to open lest a stray Death Eater swoop in a kidnap her – and cast yet another Cooling charm on the stifling bedroom. She sighed and swung her feet heavily to the floor as her body demanded the loo once more. The miracle of life someone had called it. Miracle my arse, the Auror snorted to herself. It'll be a bloody miracle if I manage the next three and a half months without strangling someone with my bare hands. She soundly closed the bathroom door, not caring if she woke the rest of the house. Sweat pooled between her breasts and trickled down under the Weird Sisters t-shirt she wore, stretched tightly over her swollen abdomen. Immediate needs seen to, Tonks plucked a facecloth from a shelf and soaked it in cold water, then cast Freezing charm after Freezing charm until it fairly crackled in her hand. She passed it over her face and neck, dipping it briefly under the faded t-shirt. It wasn't just the sense of feeling overheated in the small house that made her so edgy. Nor was it her mother's need to silently judge Remus, although that didn't help matters much. She missed her father. Christmas didn't quite feel the same without him there singing carols as he puttered around the house, putting up innumerable paper chains, piling crackers on every horizontal surface, decorating their tree with so many different colors and styles of ornaments it bordered on garish. But she loved it. The tree was more sedate this year. Tasteful, her mother would say. But Andromeda had, in a fit of sentimentality, strung strand after strand of fairy lights on the branches. The way Ted had always done. Tonks eased the bathroom door open, and peered into the corridor. Her parents' bedroom door was closed, but a light shone under the crack of the spare bedroom. Remus would still be awake, plotting something for the Order, hunched over the small wireless, trying to find a Potterwatch broadcast, reading, or writing in his journal. She marveled that he could still function on as little sleep as he got. She tiptoed down the stairs, only stubbing her toes once and found the plug for the fairy lights and shoved it into an outlet. Using the arm of the sofa for support, she eased down to the floor and Summoned a small throw pillow from an overstuffed armchair and dropped it just under the tree. She carefully maneuvered her body until she was on her back, head cushioned by the throw pillow, knees bent, feet planted on the rug. Tonks stared into the twinkling lights until her eyes blurred. It wasn't supposed to be like this. None of it was. xxxxxx Remus threaded a hand through his hair as he glanced at the gently ticking alarm clock. Tonks ought to have returned to her bedroom by now. She'd been downstairs for over an hour. He marked his place with an old quill and set the book aside, extinguishing the lamp with a careless wave of his wand. He opened the door and slid across the corridor, peeking into Tonks' bedroom. The unoccupied bed was wildly rumpled and mussed and an underlying tang melted on his tongue as he scented the heavy, musky air. It was a scent he recognized and his body twitched in response. Softly glowing light tickled at the perimeter of his bare feet and he followed it down the stairs, coming to a most abrupt stop at the bottom of the stairs with a very undignified squeak. He wasn't so addlepated by the rather fetching display to mistake her pose for anything other than its physical comfort to her. However, Remus was a man after all, and the sight of her sprawled on the floor was enough to send

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the blood racing from his head. A handbreadth of taut skin was visible between the hem of the t-shirt and the waistband of her pajama bottoms. Inasmuch as he had mixed feelings about the two of them bringing a baby into such an uncertain world, part of him wanted to strut with illogical pride at the sight of the rolling swell of their child. The other part still struggled to accept the ramifications of his marriage and the uncertainty with which he faced becoming a father. Remus had nearly made up his mind to return to his cold, solitary bed when he heard a soft sniffle waft from under the tree. He propelled himself across the room, nearly skidding to a stop on his knees. Her tears always tore at his heart and this time was no different. He reached up to brush them away from her face. 'Dora…' Tonks' gaze shifted from the tree overhead to Remus, crouched next to her. His hand was warm against the cool wetness of her cheek. Her hips shifted involuntarily while one hand wrapped around his wrist, bringing the palm of his hand to her lips. Without pausing to think, her tongue flicked over the callused skin, darting between his fingers before she gave him a thorough demonstration of what she could do to other areas of his body. 'Nymphadora…' he breathed. Was it a warning or a supplication? She didn't care. And she suspected he didn't either. She pulled her heels closer to her body and her thighs splayed apart. Remus' entire body convulsed in a shudder. 'Oh, dear God… Dora…' Tonks reversed their positions with a rapidity that belied her self-effacing comments about her stealth abilities and was surprising for one nearly six months gone with child. She straddled his hips, hands clamped around his wrists effectively pinning him to the floor. Remus tugged experimentally at her grip. It wasn't so strong that he couldn't twist his wrists from her grasp, but forceful enough to give him a sensation of helplessness. She let go long enough to tug the t-shirt over her head and discard it by tossing it across the sitting room. Remus made a strangled sort of noise in the back of his throat. She had always been pleasantly rounded where a woman should be, but now she was a series of lush curves. He cupped her breasts in his hands, entranced. They were noticeably heavier than they had been four months ago. He lifted his head, mouth opened slightly, intending to do more than merely look at her. He wanted to lick and suckle the expanse of flesh on display. 'Did I say you could touch me?' Tonks asked archly. 'Wha…?' Remus stilled, palms rasping over the pebbled nipples. Tonks leaned into the caress for a moment, before she resolutely pulled his hands away and pinned them back over his head. Remus could nearly see the heat waves radiating from her skin. Her breasts and abdomen pressed into his torso. She was so warm, but inexplicable gooseflesh rippled over her arms and shoulders. 'Did I say you could touch me?' she asked again, in whiplash of a whisper. 'N-n-n-noooo,' Remus stammered. He heard a faint creak overhead. 'Dora, your mother…' he protested weakly. 'I don't recall telling you to speak.' Tonks paused. 'Do you?' Remus opened his mouth to say "no", but mutely shook his head. What is she playing at? Satisfied, Tonks sat up. Her hips rotated in a slow circle, a smirk spreading over her face at Remus' unsuccessful attempt at biting back a moan. She carefully rearranged her position and hooked her fingers into the waistband of the thin cotton pajama bottoms and slid them to her ankles, then kicked them off. Smugly, she noted how Remus' fingers had begun to dig into the nap of the rug, but he kept his arms spread away from his body. And hers. She flicked his worn t-shirt. 'Take it off.' Remus obeyed, realization dawning as she raked her nails over his chest. It wasn't so much sex she was after. She wanted revenge. He didn't blame her, really. He would have done the same, had their positions been reversed, and she'd left him at a vulnerable juncture of their lives. He warily watched her as he dropped the shirt to the side and slowly lowered his arms. Tonks leaned forward, bracing her hands on either side of Remus' head. Her lips grazed over his then trailed down his neck, seeking out the sensitive spot just above his collarbone. She smiled in triumph as he gasped when she gave him a hard, sucking kiss at the base of his neck. His pulse jumped under her lips and Tonks growled softly, moving lower. She glanced up from her ministrations and chuckled. His lips moved, but no sound came from his mouth. His eyes were wide open, fixed on a blown-glass ornament dangling over his head. She propped her head on his stomach, fingers revisiting the places she'd so recently explored with her mouth, watching him for several moments, immensely gratified Auror training including leaning to lip-read.

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Oh my God… Please… Over and over again. Tonks smirked once more, and nuzzled the whorl of tawny hair that dove from his navel. She was rewarded with a muffled curse. Clucking in disapproval, she drew back slightly. Remus lifted his head and attempted to scowl at her, but the effect was quite spoilt by the desperate longing lurking in his eyes. In return, she merely smiled at him. But it wasn't a smile Remus had ever seen grace her features. She was toying with him. He pressed his trembling hands to the rug, resuming his silent prayer. Presently, he felt her mouth begin its leisurely journey toward the straining front of his pajamas. She bypassed it completely, and Remus groaned in dismay. He worried his lower lip between his teeth, fervently wishing she would just have her way with him and end this torture, delightful as it was. Delightful torture… he mused with the part of his brain that could form coherent thought. A fine example of an oxymoron… Tonks contemplated the faded plaid flannel under her hands and gathered the fabric in her hands and pulled. Remus lifted his hips and she gently worked them over his hips and down his legs throwing them aside. She sat back on her heels, studying her husband. He was no longer looking at the ornament, but at her, in obvious lust, breath whistling through his partially-open mouth. The back of one hand glided up the inside of one leg. His mouth closed with a soft snap and his breathing grew more labored and her hand closed around him. Was she wrong to subject him to this? Perhaps. It wasn't physical release she sought, although it was one of her goals. She wanted him to admit he needed her, just as much as she needed him. She wanted him to feel every ache she had during those long weeks when he was gone. Her body screamed for the release she had denied it while she teased Remus. Again, moving much more quickly than he could believe, Tonks straddled Remus' hips. She shook with the effort it took to not have him in a blind frenzy, using one hand for balance and the other to guide him into her. Her nails dug into the flesh above his jutting hipbones. It didn't take long. For her. As for Remus, she drove him to the brink again and again, highlighted by the nearly soundless moans and soft breathing that was no less harsh for it. Each time he came close to climaxing, she withdrew a little and stilled, her hands and lips dancing over his face and body. Tonks' lips hovered over his. A sheen of sweat on both their faces glinted in the glow from the fairy lights. She dipped her head ever so slightly to soothe his swollen mouth in a gesture that was heartbreakingly tender. His lower lip stung where he'd bitten it earlier. 'Nymphadora,' he implored, mouth moving silently against hers. 'Please…' Tonks pushed up, her hands slipping slightly against his damp chest. 'Please what?' She could feel the fine tremors that ran through his body. 'I need…' Remus swallowed heavily, licking dry lips. 'I need to touch you. To talk to you.' He watched her carefully. She made no move to stop his speech. Encouraged, he continued, one hand drifting up to rest on the swell of her hip, then splay over the curve of their child between them. The other hand tangled in her hair and brought her mouth back to his. 'I need… You. The both of you,' he added, stroking her swollen abdomen. 'I need something worth fighting to preserve.' He closed his eyes. Tonks shuddered and began to move, slowly, almost delicately, blue eyes softening and blurring. They began to close in sheer bliss when Remus hissed in her ear, 'Look at me.' Startled, her eyes flew open, and she met the stormy grey gaze, as he began to match her movements, both hands gripping her hips. He didn't quicken the pace she'd set or make an attempt to guide her motion, but it was no longer a contest of wills, rather a meeting of equals. Remus muffled the shout of his release against her neck, then held Tonks as hers rippled through her body, more than a little amused. Neither one of them had ever raised their voice above a whisper the entire time. His hand swept her hair from her face, and he met her heavy-lidded eyes. 'I am sorry,' he murmured. Tonks nodded and slowly, languorously, slid to the floor next to him. 'So am I.'    

 

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