Master of Death, Lover Witches

Death, quite frankly, did not know how it ended up here.

Oh, sure, it knew how it arrived in the land of the living. How could it forget? One teeny, tiny, half-second of miscalculation was all it had taken. Then its master had caught it, and that in turn eventually led to its being here.

Since Death had no form of its own, it had a habit of borrowing. When it appeared before the Peverells it had taken the form of their mother. When its master dragged it here, it had taken on his form, albeit with a minor ocular deviation. Its master wasted no time in putting that form to use.

First, Death was charged with babysitting his redheaded friends in a muggle living room. Then, it was Death's job to watch a spot of Quidditch while he ran off with a veela. The girl's uncle never realized they left together, because the Boy-Who-Lived was still right over there. The Weasleys never questioned Harry's darkened pupils either. They were mostly relieved that he had turned mercifully silent.

Death made it all the way to the tent with them, at which point it was summoned again, this time out of bed… and into a new one.

So now it was laying here, in a much larger bed, with a blond woman tucked against its chest, sleeping soundly. She better have been. So far as Death could tell, its only purpose here was to be her pillow.

Without any warning, a great beast burst inside of the bedroom. The tremendous buck had antlers that matched its translucent body, glowing a light blue and having phased directly through one of the walls.

"Return to the Weasleys," said the buck in Harry Potter's voice. "Keep them from panicking. I plan to be away for a few days. Cheerio!"

The buck burst apart into motes of light, returning the room to its prior dimness. The blond squeezed Death's chest tighter, as if sensing her pillow's imminent disappearance. Death sighed.

Truly, the harshest tribulations were all its own.

O-O-O

John Dawlish stared at Tonks, looking quite as if he'd like to rub his eyes.

"You caught him," he said.

"That's what I told you," Tonks said impatiently, before adding a quick, "Sir."

"And you've searched him for his wand— I mean, wands?"

"Right here," Tonks announced, holding up a particularly long wand made of inflexible elder wood.

"And the other one?"

"He didn't have it on him."

"You checked?"

"There was only one place he could be hiding it, Sir, and with all due respect I did not want to search there. I get the feeling he'd like it."

Dawlish looked back at the captured 'Tom Marvolor Riddle' standing naked except for his boots and mask, with his hands bound by cuffs. The Auror coughed.

"Right," he said. "Of course. Good thinking, then."

Tonks and her boss weren't alone. The few other Aurors that had been stationed at the final were grouped around them, looking on with a whole host of other ministry officials. More of their coworkers would be arriving soon, called out in the middle of the night. It led for quite a crowd. Dawlish stepped forward with a bit of relish, raising his hands.

"Now then," he declared. "Let's get that ridiculous muggle mask off of you already."

"That's not going to work," their prisoner warned pleasantly.

Dawlish smirked. He grabbed the cloth and pulled—

And pulled. And pulled harder.

Soon he had turned quite red in the face, arms straining beneath his robes. But no matter how much he tried, he couldn't make an inch of progress. Finally his fingers slipped, and he stumbled a few steps back.

There were whispers among the crowd. Dawlish was still red, but rather than from exertion, it seemed now to be down to a distinct case of embarrassment.

"Bugger used a sticking charm!" he announced a bit too loudly. "I'll have that off in a second."

He waved his wand and returned to pulling. No success. He waved his wand again, trying a different counter charm, and again his fingers couldn't gain any ground.

"I'll have you charged on resisting arrest," Dawlish mumbled, his voice quiet enough that only Tonks was close enough to hear. "Get rid of the charm now, before I ask again."

"But you took my wand," pointed out the prisoner.

To Tonks, it looked as if Dawlish realized that was a very good point, but was in too deep to acknowledge it. She decided to help him out.

"Shouldn't we bring him back to the ministry?" she suggested. "He'll spill everything after he's worked over there. Would be less of a spectacle, too."

She wasn't sure even she believed that would really work. If there was one thing she felt she'd learned about the naked fugitive, it was that no normal rules were capable of applying to him. But it wasn't about making him crack, really. It was about helping her superior save face.

When Dawlish looked at her, something sparked in his eyes.

He turned to the crowd of officials, who by now were whispering relentlessly to each other.

"Everyone!" he announced. "This dangerous, violent criminal acted tonight in a deplorable fashion. He exposed not one, but two members of the Malfoy Family to public shame, even temporarily escaping from ministry Aurors. But it did not last long, because one brave trainee tracked him down. This exceptionally performing youngster in none other than Nymphadora Tonks!"

Dawlish held his hand out toward her. Tonks felt every set of eyes go her way. It was only by the barest of margins that she kept her hair from embarrassedly exploding into vibrant colors.

As if it weren't bad enough that Dawlish was drawing attention to her out of nowhere, he even used her first name?

Unforgivable.

"I—" Tonks started, but the man was still going.

"In light of her service, it's only right that she unmasks the criminal she apprehended, wouldn't you say? It would be wrong of me to rob her of her moment."

The murmurs from the crowd sounded distinctly approving. With a sinking feeling in her gut, Tonks recognized what he was doing.

"Go on, girl," Dawlish said, turning to her with a smile. "Give it a try."

By which he meant: "If I'm going to get embarrassed, I'm damn well not going to be the only one."

Unfortunately, knowing what he was up to didn't do a whole lot for Tonks. She was a trainee, and he was her superior. She couldn't rightly ignore an order.

At least it would still be worse for Dawlish. Everyone expected a trainee to fail. They wouldn't forget so quickly about a proper Auror doing the same.

Going through the motions, Tonks grabbed the hem of the prisoner's mask.

She lifted it off with zero resistance.

Dawlish gaped. So did Tonks. The crowd clamored, pushing against each other to get a look at the culprit's face.

Unfortunately, removing the mask had only revealed a second, identical mask right underneath the first.

"Come on already," said the prisoner. "I know that I technically have all night, but I'd rather not use it up."

Dawlish grabbed him by the shoulder, pushing him along.

"Come on," he said. "The Ministry has a cell waiting for you."

It seemed even stubborn old Aurors could, occasionally, understand when to give up.

O-O-O

"Well done!"

Tonks smiled at the wizard she thought might have been named Augustus, or maybe John.

"Thanks," she said. "Means a lot."

She navigated around him, trying her best to cross the Auror office, a task she never expected to find so difficult.

The last day had felt somewhat like a dream. Her lack of sleep probably helped with that. She'd been up half of the last night for obvious reasons, and the few hours of rest she'd gotten simply weren't enough.

Then she arrived for work the next day, and all of a sudden everyone knew her, even the strangers. Her shoulder had never been clapped so many times in her life, let alone over the course of a couple of hours. It made working all but impossible, but Tonks would be lying if she pretended the praise didn't feel at least a little good.

Adoration from the masses was not a hero's chief focus. It couldn't be, or else Tonks wouldn't consider them a true hero at all. That said, being adored was a trait that most heroes shared. If she shut her eyes now, Tonks could just about see herself as one now, returning to town after besting a fierce villain.

Of course, she probably shouldn't have actually closed her eyes. She realized that was a bad idea right about when she walked headlong into someone.

"Whoa there little lady." Two strong arms caught and steadied her. "I see that clumsiness hasn't changed."

Tonks recognized the voice.

"Savage," she greeted.

"You can open your eyes now, you know," said the voice. 

"But then I'd have to see you," Tonks said. "I'm quite alright."

Saying that, she still cracked them open reluctantly. Standing in front of her was a tall-ish man in an Auror's red robes. His sparkling badge had a large capital M embossed on the top with a wand peeking up through the middle. A proper Auror's badge, not the trainee type Tonks wore.

He had brown hair that reached his shoulders, framing a decent face that wasn't nearly as handsome as Tonks once thought it was. He hadn't let go of her arms. In fact, Savage gave them a slight squeeze.

"As you can feel, this is no dream," he said. "I'm really here."

"You work here," Tonks pointed out. "There aren't even that many of us."

"Ah, but I imagine I've shown up plenty in your dreams recently, so I thought I should clarify. Especially a certain kind of dream, if you catch my drift."

Savage waggled his eyebrows.

"I don't." She did. "And anyway, we broke up a month ago. You broke up with me, actually. So I'd appreciate if you stepped aside and let me retrieve the files that Madam Bones wanted on her desk twenty minutes ago."

Savage let go of her finally, but he didn't move aside. Instead, he rubbed the back of his head.

Only a few years older than her, Savage had been Head Boy while Tonks was still at Hogwarts. He'd had his share of admirers, but it wasn't until she became his coworker that Tonks truly noticed him. When he asked her out, she jumped at the chance.

It hadn't lasted long. Two weeks, and she was pretty sure one of those was only because he knew she was a Metamorphmagus, and the idea excited him. 

"Tonks!" Savage chided. "Come on, we both know that's not the whole story. I just thought you didn't have the same ambition that I do. I know that matching me is a tall ask, but I can't have a girlfriend that falls too far behind. It wasn't looking good for a bit there."

"I nearly failed one stealth test and you cut me off like a load of rubbish!"

"I was too hasty," Savage continued. "The whole department is talking. You caught a dangerous dark wizard while still a trainee! Do you know how impressive that is? All on its own, that's enough to keep you in my orbit for six-months, at least!"

He paused here, as if waiting for her to drop to her knees in relief.

"Lucky me," Tonks said.

"Right?" Savage agreed. "So I was thinking. Dinner tomorrow night. My place. And we can see where things go from there."

"Tonks."

Before she could get a word out, Dawlish appeared at her side like a ghost. He was as pale as one too, getting a good look at him. The man had avoided Tonks ever since the spectacle the night before, but he looked directly at her now with only the vaguest hints of a blush.

"The prisoner won't break," he said. "And he's asking for you."

"He's asking for me?" Tonks said. "Like me, me? You're sure?"

Dawlish's thin lips twitched. "He's dropping hints. He seems to think they're subtle. They're not. But we can't get a single thing out of him, so we're going to see if you have better luck. You know, because there's a precedent."

Tonks flinched slightly, before recovering. 

"Madam bones wanted files on the Adams case—"

"Savage can get them for her." Dawlish jerked his head, refusing to wait any longer. "Come."

She followed Dawlish away, feeling a tad dazed. Savage's face was a riot. Being assigned a menial task seemed to give him physical discomfort, like his head had been shoved in a bowl of rancid milk. He smothered it with a smile a moment later.

"Offer is still on, Tonks!" he called after her. "Think about it! This is the best you could do."

"Fetch your files," Tonks called back at him over her shoulder.

The Ministry holding cells were down four flights of stairs from the Auror office, and each one was progressively dingier than the last. They passed a sleepy-looking wizard sitting behind a desk with a large ring of keys hanging from his pocket. He picked one off and passed it to Dawlish, before crossing his arms and letting his head droop once more.

A voice filled the hall, giving Tonks an inclination as to which door they were looking for even before Dawlish ever stopped.

"You won't get a thing out of me! A true half-blood eats up chumps like you for breakfast, and sometimes for brunch, too. I'll never break under torture, coercion, and probably not bribery. You stand no chance— so long as you don't bring out my weakness the talented and tough investigator Nymphadora Tonks !"

"Like I said," Dawlish grunted. "Not subtle."

He handed her the key, and the two of them stood a moment outside the door.

"Do I just, like, ask him questions?"

"That would be the point of an interrogation, yes," said Dawlish. "Along with making him answer."

"So should I try to be nice? Or really mean? Or, or—"

"Just walk in the room."

"Yes, Sir."

Tonks turned the key and stepped inside.

The cell reminded her of a dungeon, what with its stone walls and general dampness. Tonks thought that was entirely unfair. What kind of story started with the villain locked in a jail while the hero ran free?

"Finally!" said the prisoner, waving at her.

Trying to wave, anyway. The thick manacles tethering each wrist to the wall made that a bit difficult.

For once, the threadbare robes given to prisoners were actually an upgrade over his old clothes, or lack-of. He still wore his mask, and his shoes were on as well. Tonks wondered if he'd used the same sticking charm on those before recognizing she was wasting time.

A moth-eaten cot was built into the wall. Facing the prisoner perched on it was a wooden chair that wasn't native to the room. Tonks could tell because it didn't have a single spot of mildew across the whole surface.

She sat down on the chair, crossing her legs.

"So what's under the mask?" she asked

"The last thing you'd expect," he promised.

"The last thing I'd expect is Lucius Malfoy."

"Oh." The prisoner blinked. "Not the last thing you'd expect, then. But still pretty shocking."

"Can't you just show me?"

"You're pretty bad at interrogations," he noticed.

"Well I don't know about that," Tonks said. "I've never seen one before. So maybe this is what a great one looks like."

"I would know, though. I've been interrogated before."

"Get arrested often do you?"

"Captured, at least," he said. "It was only a few times, but they tend to be memorable."

"So what makes an interrogation a great one?"

"The Cruciatus is always a strong starter." 

Tonks shivered. From the way he phrased it he was the one on the receiving side, not the one casting it, but she found that almost as terrifying. No sane person should be able to speak so casually about an Unforgivable Curse.

Though, thinking about it, his sanity was probably out the window long before this.

"I'm going to take off your mask now," she declared.

"And if it's stuck again?"

"Then I'm not going to. But you already used that gag, so it would be much more fun if it worked now."

"Good point!" said the man.

Tonks stood up slowly. She edged around the chair, approaching him with careful steps. When she grabbed the mask she tore it off quickly, like a scab.

It came off so easily that she stumbled back. Black hair sticking up in odd directions, a boy even younger than her blinked his bright green eyes.

"Well that was dramatic," he said.

The mask slipped from Tonks's fingers. She pointed straight at his forehead— and the scar nestled above his eyes.

"Harry Potter!" she screamed. 

It was a perfectly reasonable thing to do in the situation; sometimes surprising things simply make our brains want to yell.

"Told you you'd be shocked," Harry said a tad smugly.

He stretched his neck out, bringing it to a manacled hand and licking his fingers. With that managed, he rubbed his head against the hand, using the spit to matt down his chaotic hair. Tonks sat back down. Somehow, doing that seemed to reset the conversation, and allowed her to function properly again.

"So," she said. " Harry Potter. "

"That's my name." Harry continued battling with his hair. "Do keep it a secret, though."

"It is my job not to."

"Well, good luck getting anyone to believe you then."

"What do you mean 'believe me'?" Tonks asked. 

Harry finally tamed the worst cowlick. "Aha! Got it." He turned his attention to Tonks. "I just mean that, if someone told you it was the Boy Who Lived under the mask, would you think they were on the level? Or would you think they'd gone absolutely batshit and needed to be locked in the deepest darkest corner of St. Mungo's mental ward with due haste?"

"Something between the two."

"But you wouldn't believe it," Harry pointed out. "That's the bit I was getting at."

Tonks smiled bemusedly, tapping her fingers against the sides of her chair.

"Dawlish is right outside," she said. "I'm about ninety-five percent certain he's heard everything you said. And if he didn't, he definitely caught me screaming your name."

"No he didn't," Harry said. Then, as if proving a point, he bellowed, "John Dawlish sleeps with stuffed animals and dreams of having sexual relations with his biological mother!"

Tonks flinched, but the door did not fly open. Dawlish didn't appear, aiming his wand at the prisoner while frothing at the mouth. In fact, now that she trained her ears toward it, Tonks couldn't hear a single thing outside of the room.

"I think you'll find that whatever happens in here will be known only to us," Harry said.

He smiled at her. Tonks developed a sudden shiver— although for some reason, it was not entirely unpleasant.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked.

She meant all of it. Approaching her with that strange plan when he possessed enough power to decimate a stadium by himself. Allowing himself to be captured. Making sure she was the one to do it, and letting her shine at every opportunity since.

"I have plans," Harry said pleasantly. "Big ones. A couple nasty ones. People are going to die, and I'm going to be the one to do it. I imagine that quite a lot of witches and wizards are going to hate me. To them, I'll be quite a villain."

Tonks's heart hammered out of control. "So why tell me?"

Still smiling, Harry stood. His manacles dropped off his wrists, unlocked wandlessly without so much as a word.

"Because I want you to do your best to stop me."

Tonks's hand shot for her wand, only to hesitate halfway. Would it even help? After everything she'd seen him do, did she really think she had a chance?

A moment later her fingers were around her wand, aiming it at Harry.

It didn't matter if she could win. Heroes didn't think about that. They did what was right just because, and followed through with everything they had. That was the thing that made Tonks love them in the first place.

Harry bent forward, grabbing her chin and staring into her eyes. His smile had become a grin.

"Perfect!" he said. "Just like that! I knew picking you was the right choice!"

Tonks became all too aware of the fingers touching her face. Warm, strong fingers. She looked into the face inches from her own — a very handsome face — and became… a bit confused.

Adrenaline pumped in her system. She found it difficult to think. Her body demanded action. And for whatever reason, the first action that came to her was a kiss.

Her lips mashed against Harry's. Her tongue entered his mouth like an Auror busting into a suspect's home. It didn't take long for him to begin kissing her back.

Only when neither of them had any spare breath did he break the kiss.

"Well that was a surprise," he said. "A pleasant one, mind."

Tonks was surprised herself, and she was the one that did it. But at the same time she knew: she wasn't done yet.

She kissed him again, rising and jumping onto him without her lips leaving his. Her legs wrapped around his waist. He grabbed her rump to hold her up. She growled, driving her tongue deeper toward his throat.

As she did it, her brain filled with the least fitting thoughts she could imagine. For some reason a montage of her recent work flitted by— ferrying paperwork across the office; sitting through three-hour lectures on the intricacies of arresting a pureblood, and how never to do it unless absolutely necessary; compiling reports with a quill under wandlight long after she should have been at home in bed.

Auror's were supposed to be the ones doing the arresting, but sometimes it felt like they were the ones wrapped in chains, only instead of iron these were made of bureaucracy. The job was more politics than do-gooding. They were just one more arm of an overcomplicated ministry, hurled at any task no one else wanted.

Tonks had never felt more free than she did riding the wizard holding her. The same one offering her everything she wanted, by being the very thing she opposed the most.

She bucked her hips, grinding against his crotch, and felt something start growing. And growing, and growing…

The thought of all of it cramming into Tonks's tight snatch had her lower lips drooling. This was going to be a positively despicable shag.

She pulled her head back, breaking the kiss, and pressed a finger to Harry's lips to stop him from reigniting it.

"The Boy Who Lived qualifies as better than a twenty-something Auror who thinks too much of himself and still shares a vault with his parents, right?" she asked.

"I mean I would say yes," said Harry.

"Good." Tonks shoved her arms around his shoulders. "Fuck me silly."

He spun them around. A moment later Tonks's back was to the cold, hard stone wall, with nowhere to squirm away. The unlocked manacles Harry had worn sprung to life, jumping around Tonks's wrists and relatching.

Harry pulled away from her then. She missed his warmth dreadfully, despite having lost it only seconds ago. With her as a captive audience, he kicked off his shoes. His arms reached up, sleeves sliding down to show off well-muscled forearms, and grabbed the collar of his loaned robes. He didn't even take them off properly, just tore the thin fabric straight down the middle. Tonks got a good look at his six-pack and the large cock underneath, erect and ready for her. She gulped.

He pointed toward her then, and her robes began to split. It started down at the hem and traveled up her body. She could feel his magic as it slid along across stomach, directed wandlessly and with an impossible amount of control. Her clothes fell away from her body, bra and knickers included, leaving her exposed before him. 

Tonks usually kept her breasts perky and small. It was easier to move that way, as well as nicer on her back. But she realized she'd grown them by a couple of cups as he cut through her robes without even meaning to, just to leave a better impression. 

He grabbed her backside again, this time with no clothes getting in the way. His arms pulled her up so that her back was flat to the floor, suspended by his grip and the manacles on her wrists. His shaft rubbed and slapped her quim as he positioned her. Tonks felt herself grin.

"All done preparing?" she asked.

He jerked his hips back and mashed his whole length inside of her in one go.

"You tell me," he said.

Tonks cried out. She was used to her voice sounding deeper, but she couldn't help but squeak as she was plowed through. The harder thrusts knocked her shoulders back against the wall. It wouldn't be long before she began cumming. Had she been this backed up?

The answer was no. It was less than a month since she last got some action. It was just the situation — the utter wildness of it, and the sheer unrepentance Harry Potter showed while fucking her — that was driving her crazy. It was like no shag she'd ever had before. 

His hands slid from her ass to her hips. The extra stability let him reach even deeper inside of her. This position was the most helpless Tonks had ever felt in bed, and she couldn't get enough. She came all over the Boy Who Lived's cock.

He knew it, too, with that damn smug smile. Her hair began lengthening and shortening rapidly as her control of her powers slipped. She was sure she was making quite a stupid-looking face, but she lacked the will to do anything about it.

Remembering the silencing treatment on the cell, she gave up trying to keep her voice down. She shrieked and moaned, letting out every bit of emotion she'd repressed over months of work. She came twice more, one after another.

In a moment of clarity, she became quite irritated with the superior look on his face. She determined to make him as much of a mess as she was at the moment. Given who she was, she had quite a lot of tools with which to do it.

To begin with, she tightened her vagina until it couldn't squeeze his cock any tighter. She watched his eyes bulge. Any satisfaction was quickly forgotten, though. She hurled her head back and screamed.

He had continued to ram into her, applying enough force to make it happen, and the feeling of herself stretching pushed Tonks further than anything yet. Instead of milking his cock, she ended up cumming on it for a fourth time.

Well, she wouldn't give up yet. As she gasped to get her breath back, she adopted another traditional Metamorphmagus tactic.

Her pink hair lengthened and turned to platinum blond. Her skin became paler. At the same time, her hips curved in while her breasts and buttocks grew to enormous proportions. She readopted the parody of her aunt she used the night before, this time without even lingerie to get in the way of its unadultured appeal.

"Well?" purred Tonks in Narcissa's husky voice. "Don't tell me you thought this up just for some silly plot. I'm sure I appeared in your mind much before that, when you were all alone in your room one night…"

She wrapped her legs tighter around the back of his waist, pulling him close to her. In response, Harry bent forward, sinking his teeth into the excessive flesh on her chest.

His teeth were like a storm against her. He turned her sensitive skin bright red and dark purple, one bite at a time. His hands groped her backside. Tonks wailed under the feeling of so many touches all over her body. She came again, failing another attempt to break him.

Her breasts shrunk quite suddenly, sinking away from Harry's mouth. If anything, her backside grew even larger. Pale skin became dark, filling with melanin. 

Tonks smirked, showing off pearly teeth that contrasted her dusky skin. "Every Hogwarts boy knows Sinistra. What do you think? Am I as tight as you imagined back in your four-poster bed after Astronomy lessons?"

"Professor Sinistra doesn't smile."

Tonks groaned, her borrowed face twisting up with pleasure as Harry didn't miss a beat.

"Maybe that's just because she's never been fucked like this!"

"You know, that could be it," Harry said. "I guess I'll have to check some time."

A mental image filled Tonks's head of the shapely professor bent over a cushion in her private tower, Harry deep in a one-on-one lesson with her. Again, she was the one to cum first.

She was growing desperate now. She thought of who she knew well enough to mimic— and somehow, for reasons even she didn't understand, her brain settled on her boss.

Amelia Bones was an older witch, but you wouldn't guess it from looking at her. Her face wore its few wrinkles like an accessory, not a curse. She had a fit body leftover from her days as an active Auror, and she worked to keep it that way. Her chest was large enough have driven many men crazy across her length life, not as absurdly huge as the assets on the Narcissa impression, but big in a natural way, which somehow increased their allure. They bounced wildly on Tonks's chest as she was fucked.

"Really?" Harry asked.

"I don't know anymore," Tonks moaned in her boss's stern voice. "Just don't stop!"

Stop he did not. Harry climbed onto the cot, making its springs wail with protest. He pushed Tonks further against the wall, folding her like a taco with her head and crotch the highest points on her body. Her breasts ended up stuffed in her own face, and feeling a great need to do something with her mouth, Tonks bit into them fervently. 

"Sleeping with your nemesis," Harry said. "Is this going to be your origin story?" He groaned, his eyes shutting. "I'll tell you what, if you're not on the potion it's going to be somebody's origin story for sure."

The quip made Tonks want to roll her eyes, but the meaning made them roll back in her head. Sure enough, warmth seeped between her legs. She could feel his veiny member twitching inside her as it delivered its loads. She had done it finally, and all it took to make him climax was to look exactly like her boss.

Harry went on spewing his load for far longer than Tonks thought ought to be possible. She felt herself fill like a cup beneath a spigot. The sensation was so overwhelming, striking, and foreign that she couldn't handle it. She came again, the most intense one yet, and felt her whole body shudder and malfunction at the exact moment the door opened.

There, standing in the doorway, Amelia Bones stared at herself fucked silly on a young man's cock.

Dawlish was behind her, but too far back to see anything. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement director was quite stunned, so much so that she couldn't even raise the wand in her hand.

"Well this is awkward." Harry let go of Tonks, letting her slide off of him. She dropped down onto the cot, rather unresponsive, leaking profusely from her nether regions. "I think that's my queue to leave."

"Don't let him get away!" Amelia Bones — the real one — screamed at the top of her lungs, returning to her senses. 

She finally raised her wand. Dawlish forced his way into the room, more Aurors at his back. Before they could get a proper look inside, Harry turned on the spot and Apparated, punching through the Ministry's impenetrable protections with a louder-than-usual crack. His shoes and mask disappeared with him.

The entire room was silent, the Aurors stunned by the sight of their boss fucked silly, and their boss stunned by the sight of herself fucked silly. Finally, Amelia addressed the lookalike.

"Auror Tonks, I presume?"

Tonks giggled in her sleep, still trussed up in the chains Harry locked around her.

"Finally," she mumbled. "I knew the hero would end up in the cell eventually."

Madam Bones stormed from the room.