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Desmond Tonks

So sing it back if you're with me, I wanna hear how your heart speaks

7 posts in this topic

“Alright Mr. Tonks. You’re ready to be released. Classes will start the day after for you… or is that too soon?”

 

“I was fine since yesterday. I know what to do – this isn’t my first time.”

 

“… which is something that I wish I didn’t need to hear. But alright – out you go.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

In quick hurried steps, Desmond exited the Hospital Wing, the place he had been staying for the past week since his transfer from St. Mungo’s. No one had come to pick him up. Obvious, since Desmond neglected to inform anyone. With all that had happened, one would think that the fifth year deserved a good long rest. But no – there was just far too much to ponder over and to do.

 

First, there was his family, who had been distraught to discover that he had been attacked for the second time. Maribelle Tonks had wanted to pull her son out of Hogwarts (and by extension, the wizarding world) after the first attack had happened. She only conceded to her son’s protests when she was told that he would pose a danger to himself if he didn’t get a solid grasp on his magic. Now that he was older, that excuse was obsolete. And what’s worse was the fact that the attack had occurred at Hogwarts, where Desmond spent most of his time at. In the last week, he had exchanged a total of a dozen letters with his mother, each one more heart-wrenching than the last. But Desmond refused to let himself be taken away from Hogwarts and had even gone to the lengths of threatening to run away if Maribelle dared to send in a withdrawal request. It was only then did Desmond’s mother quiet, albeit reluctantly. He could tell the argument was far from over.

 

But no matter. Desmond was going to be of age soon – just over a year to go. He would be allowed to make his own decisions then.

 

The next curious development was that of Navi Wilkes. The girl had been his most frequent visitor since the attack and was by his bedside whenever she could spare the time. However, she was also always suspiciously quiet and had somehow gone even quieter when Desmond told her what his mother wrote in her last letter. Desmond had first thought that it was because she wanted to give him some peace. It took him a few days to realize that it was more than that - she was harboring a secret. He’d have to pry it out of her after he settled this other problem of his – Mercutio Bates.

 

Mercutio was a blithering idiot. In the scant few times his boyfriend had come to visit him, Desmond could practically see the guilt and disappointment emanating off the jock in waves. Although Desmond had not let it show, the sudden withdrawal hurt… far far more than the attack had. Cuddles and kisses were still on offer, but none of them held the warmth that Desmond was used to. Was this really the time for that sort of nonsense? After everything they’ve been through? And let’s not get Desmond started on the fact that Mercutio had tried to get him to escape while charging at the Death Eater head on.

 

“Navi,” Desmond hissed in greeting as he flipped his mirror open. “Where’s that dumbass?”

 

“Mercutio? I think he said he was going for a run near the lake. Why?”

 

“It’s nothing. Boyfriend stuff. I’m going to throttle him when I see him.”

 

“Wait! Des-”

 

Mirror shut tight, the fifth year charged towards the grounds, nearly tripping over the stairs when he climbed down. Mercutio was easy enough to spot once Desmond got close enough to the large expanse of water – his large form bobbing up and down as he jogged along the shore.

 

A trip jinx slithered its way through Desmond’s dry lips, its light latching onto Mercutio’s calves as he fell over in a loud thump.

 

That was for telling me to run away.” The teen growled as he made his approach. “I didn’t know you liked having a coward for a boyfriend. Tell me, what the hell were you thinking?!”

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“Do you know how many terrorist attacks Beauxbatons has had in the last five years? None. And now you’ve been attacked twice, Merc. That’s already twice too many. I’m sending you to France!”

His mother’s concerns were valid and Mercutio couldn’t argue against her anymore. Despite both times he had been attacked in a public space, Hogwarts hadn’t been left untouched. If he hadn’t been in Hogsmeade, there was a chance he would have still been attacked in the school. Fact was, the school had been infiltrated proving that it was no longer as safe as Flamel had promised.

But, Mercutio didn’t want to leave Hogwarts. He had friends here, a boyfriend, people he loved and trusted and couldn't bear to be apart from, especially now in his most vulnerable state. And thankfully, Merida understood his needs and relented, in the end. Although, she promised to send a strongly worded letter to Flamel and the school governors (the ones who weren’t missing like Montague, anyway). She also made him promise not to return to Hogsmeade — not that there was much remaining of the town to return to — which was easy for him. The Death Eater might not have broken any of his bones, but he had broken his spirit. That was enough.

Avoiding Desmond had never been his plan. Yet, when he’d been discharged from the Hospital Wing earlier with minimal damages while his boyfriend was restricted to staying an entire week, he couldn’t help but be wracked with guilt. My fault, he kept repeating in his head as he pressed kisses to the other boy’s lips. My fault, he whispered against the warm skin of his boyfriend’s knuckles. My fault my fault myfaultmyfaultmy—

Mercutio did as he always did when his thoughts became too heavy to carry — he worked out.

An hour into his run, his lungs were screaming for mercy and his legs trembled at the exertion, but he pressed on at a punishing pace, knowing the moment he stopped, he’d be forced to think again. Despite the nippy autumn weather, sweat drenched his t-shirt as if it was summer. The sudden latching of magic to his calf had his body crying out in relief as he collapsed to the ground, wheezing sharply while his boyfriend ranted above him.

Coward for a boyfriend. The words stung because they described him perfectly now. In the end, Mercutio was the one doing all the running.

Numbly, he pressed sweaty palms against his eyes to try and stop the burning sensation. “I was thinking about you,” he croaked in defeat. “I just wanted you safe, but — in the end —“

My fault.

 

Post 2444 <3

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Truth be told, Desmond had been looking for a fight, a way to get the frustration that had been infused into his being out. Mercutio, the teen had thought, would be the perfect candidate to give him one, especially since the jock owed him for what he had done during the attack. Much to his chagrin, Mercutio submitted to his rants, tearing up his heart in a way that was completely unfair. Was Desmond bothered by the fact that Mercutio had been part of the reason why he was hospitalized? Maybe. But it was an inconsequential issue compared to how Mercutio had pulled away both during and after the attack. This, Desmond thought, was something he had to get Mercutio to understand. Out of all the episodes of miscommunication they had or will have, this wasn’t one Desmond was going to allow to slip by.

 

Buckling down onto his knees, Desmond wrestled Mercutio’s wrists’ away from the latter’s face. Somehow, he managed to do it despite their vast differences in physical strength. “Stop. Just…stop, please.” The desperate edge to Desmond’s voice had to be what finally caught Mercutio’s attention. Once they locked eyes, Desmond released his grip, allowing his hands to fall to his side, the tips dragging through caked mud. “Merc, did you think I didn’t know that? Of course I knew you wanted me safe…but you seem to have forgotten what I wanted too.” As he predicted, confusion bubbled to the surface, manifesting in upturned brows. With valiant effort, Desmond kept his voice steady and quiet. It wouldn’t do to stutter now.

“Don’t you remember what I said during the summer? If we’re doing whatever this is, I want us to do it together. By telling me to take cover while you charge into danger like that, you’re doing the exact opposite of what we promised each other.” As one who rarely spoke from his heart, Desmond quickly became unsettled and turned his eyes away.

“Mum has been trying to pull me out of Hogwarts. It has gotten to a point where we are not talking to each other. I absolutely hate to defy her but I know in my gut that leaving this place, you, Navi, is the last thing that would help me through th-this…” The first sob came on slowly, but the rest beat down his self-control like it was nothing. “I-If you ke-keep pulling away now….”

For the first time since Desmond woke up, he cried.

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When Desmond was angry, it was easier to lay down and let him take charge, to play apathetic and let his boyfriend blow off steam until he was no longer pissed. But when his voice broke and he pleaded, Mercutio felt the innate desire to fix. He stopped fighting and let his eyes drink in the sight of the genius, the dark shadows under his eyes, the sallow look on his face, and the gathering tears.

Des,” Mercutio breathed, sitting up so they were closer, his hands fluttering anxiously as his boyfriend bared his soul, leaving him vulnerable. “D-Don’t. Don’t cry, please,” he whispered, hands reaching to cradle the back of his head, drawing the slim figure close. Gently, he pressed their foreheads together. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to pull away, I just… it hurts, Des. I did this to you and I can’t live with myself. How can you even look at me?”

How can you still even love me now?

It was the ultimate betrayal, in his opinion. Even if Desmond still believed in him, loved him, Mercutio had lost trust in himself. The Death Eater had shattered his spirit until it laid in pieces at his feet. Not even all the magic in the world would be able to repair this turmoil inside him.

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Overwhelmingly, Mercutio smelled of salt, earth and regret – so very different from the confident cologne he usually wore. For years now, Desmond had looked to Mercutio and Navi for directions, acknowledging their prowess in navigating this human-populated world of theirs. He didn’t once consider what he would do when the roles were reversed, when it was Mercutio who needed some kind of guidance. Thinking back to the many times Desmond’s best friends had helped him, the answer to his predicament became crystal clear: Be patient and stay by the other’s side regardless of the odds.

 

Desmond and his stubborn self could do that, probably.

 

“If I want to cry, I’m going to cry, dammit.” The fifth year muttered lowly, naturally balking at Mercutio’s demands even when it didn’t make a lick of sense. But even as the muggleborn said this, he allowed his boyfriend to close the distance between them. In response, Desmond reached out with clawed fingers and clung on tight, refusing to let him go.

 

Then, at Mercutio’s proclamation, Desmond quickly countered, his words layered with a thin coat of anger. “Does it hurt less to not look at me?” Of course, he looked a lot less threatening with globules of tears tumbling down his cheeks. For a few seconds, Desmond simply went silent, searching for his next words as the quivering of his shoulders abated.

 

“If you really, truly, want to take the blame that isn’t even yours in the first place, then make it up to me.” By this point, Desmond knew that to get through Mercutio’s head, he’d have to speak the language of martyrs. Following another shuddering breath, Desmond whispered. “You already know what I want.”

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It was easy to continue murmuring out apologies after apologies, wiping away the tears with his thumbs and pressing their foreheads close until they shared the same air when Desmond lashed at him with anger in his voice. Mercutio knew how to console, to say the right sugary words that would satiate the blistering feelings.

In return, Desmond knew exactly the right words in response, which ones would give him a spark of hope, a chance of redemption. His fingertips twitched before his grip on his head strengthened. “Yes,” he croaked, breathlessly. “I can… I can do that. I can make it up to you, Des. I’ll do anything. Just please don’t… please just still…” love me.

He kissed him, desperately, needfully, passionately, morosely. He kissed him for lost time, for misplaced guilt, and for fear of losing the best part of his life. When they broke apart, Mercutio peppered the other boy’s face with soft brushes of his lips, kissing away the tears, caressing his skin with whispered apologies.

 

“Forgive me,” he concluded, as if to make his message all the more clear.

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When Mercutio agreed to his proposal, Desmond felt himself breathe more easily. Finally.

 

Time and again, Mercutio had always forgiven Desmond for his little quirks. Wasn’t this similar in some way? Sure, broken bones and blasting curses were on a completely different level but it didn’t necessarily mean they would have escaped if Mercutio had ran in the opposite direction of the explosions.

 

“Just shut up already.” Desmond whispered against salt-slicked lips, taking in everything Mercutio had to offer. Snogs may be part and parcel of their lives now but the sentiments behind this kiss were frighteningly new, unadulterated. It stirred up parts of Desmond that he would prefer remain dormant. Much too soon, they broke away. Desmond released a sigh, relishing the sparks that prickled beneath his skin.

 

“Forgive me.”

 

“I forgive you.” were perhaps the words Desmond should have said in response. Unfortunately, Desmond would never let them pass his lips, for he believed there was nothing to forgive. Charging headfirst into danger was rooted in Mercutio’s nature. If Desmond hadn’t accepted that long before, he didn’t think they would be together together in the first place.

 

I don’t care about anything else. Just… stay close to me, okay?”

 

The furious nods Desmond received in reply was all the answer he needed.

end <3

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