This is not a fluffy romance story. It will be gritty, dark, and include some adult themes. The story will not revolve entirely on the pairing, but it will be a very important aspect.

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I don't own Harry Potter. 

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 Frustration

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Harry looked down on the doe eyed Hufflepuff beneath him, frustrated. Hannah Abbot was lost in ecstasy, looking dreamily at the ceiling, breathing heavily.

Sneering in disgust, he left her there naked, putting on his clothes and leaving the empty classroom without closing the door. He didn't care if the slut got caught. The shame would be enough to keep her mouth shut.

The days had not been good to Harry, with his other abandoning him like a common dog. They had enjoyed their weekly, sometimes nightly trysts for close to a month, before she suddenly stopped coming.

He had waited for hours the following day, and the next, and the next, desperately hoping she would return.

No more notes, no more promises, no more whispers of things to come in his ears.

She had ruined him.

He hated her, loathed her for what she had done.

The pain of loss was horrendous, and it tore at him from the inside. The very last thing he had in the world was taken away from him. His friends didn't matter, he had none. His possessions were worthless - he had enough money to buy them a hundred times over.

He had nothing left.

And now, his frustration was getting the better of him.

In his rage, his thirst for revenge, his anger, he had pushed himself into his studies, searching for some way to surpass her in power, to someday have his way with her. He had discovered much in the way of older, darker forbidden knowledge, most in the forgotten small libraries he had found in the shadowy corridors of Hogwarts Castle.

Useful curses, spells, charms all were filed away.

He found tomes in the other rooms branching from the antechamber, dark artifacts, and locked doors he spent entire nights trying to open. Knowledge became his obsession, far surpassing Hermione in zeal.

What did he have left? There was nothing to be lost, only power to be gained.

Dumbledore would look worriedly upon him, McGonagall frowning when he walked by. The old man knew something was off; he was perceptive as always. McGonagall knew from the headmaster, being his little bitch got you tidbits of information after all. But the other teachers, clueless as always, praised him, showering him with complements.

He strove to become better, better than her.

And someday, yes, someday he would cross the mirror, give his revenge. He would take her against the wall, brutally.

Just not yet. He would not dive into the unknown underpowered. He would not lose. Not to her.

…………………………

Stepping out of the passageway, Harry pressed his foot against the block, causing the door to slide back shut with a loud groan. Casting a disillusionment charm on himself, he moved quickly away, back to the Room of Requirement.

He placed all his extra reading material in the room, hiding it away from prying eyes. He couldn't take it with him to Gryffindor Tower less they be discovered. He knew for a fact Tonks went through his things.

The whole Order treated him carefully, and would watch him as if he would burst at any second.

Harry, despite the prophecy, had been blocked off from the Order “…in the interest of your mental health.”

Ron and Hermione were in as well, but refused to tell him anything. At first he had been angry, as he had felt betrayed. But later on, he had come to recognize their usefulness. They reported on him, and his 'mental state'. He could show them what he wanted them to see, and influence the Order's opinion of him.

This had continued for some time, but Hermione, most likely jealous of his rising grades and suspicious of his association with the other houses had said something to the Order. Catching him wandering at night had alerted her even more.

This had led to his invisibility cloak taken away and Tonks being assigned to “guard detail”. Taking the form of an exchange student, she had taken to tailing him around. Though she was an Auror, Harry easily lost her when he moved through the castle. Hearing no reprimand from Dumbledore, he had surmised that the young metamorphmagus was too proud to admit her failure.

Not that it bothered him.

It wouldn't do well at all for him to be seen. His minders were suspicious enough.

They tried hard to talk to him, to get information on his state. Tonks would sidle up to him at odd times, chattering about nonsense to catch him off guard. Hermione, despite her running off to Dumbledore and telling him of his wandering, still spoke to him as if nothing had happened between them.

Ron, thankfully, was too stupid and simpleminded to do anything useful, being led away from his questionings by the simple mention of 'quidditch' or 'food'.

So it was with great surprise that he sensed he was being followed.

Looking behind him, he saw nothing. The seventh floor stood empty, the fearsome armors standing still, the portraits sleeping quietly.

An invisibility cloak, most likely his.

Focusing his eyes a bit, he saw through it, revealing a flustered Tonks trying her best to tail him silently, pressed against the wall.

Harry suppressed the urge to curse her on the spot. He would be exposed if he didn't take action. While the Room of Requirement was powerful, it could not refuse a direct order from the Headmaster of Hogwarts.

She would have to be silenced…but how?

He could obliviate her, but Dumbledore would recognize the remnants in a passive legilmency scan. She reported to him every twenty four hours, and that wasn't long enough for the mind to completely settle.

No, she would have to withhold this information voluntarily.

An idea struck him in that instant.

He strayed from his initial path and took a shortcut to the fourth floor, where he knew Filch was patrolling.

…………………………

Tonks looked at the quickly retreating figure of her charge.

Harry had grown through the year, reaching a respectable height and filling out some. His hair was as messy as ever, and his eyes were no longer hidden behind the round glasses. He was, quite simply, devastatingly gorgeous, and it showed.

He was seen flirting with various girls, and Tonks could tell by the way they looked at him that there was more than just friendly chatter going on.

She couldn't help but feel a little jealous.

But no matter how hard she tried to get into the group, they all silenced themselves once she got too close. Something was going on with the boy-who-lived, and she would find out.

Increasing her pace to match Harry, she thought about his behavior so far.

The sixth year was constantly charming people, making friends, and smiling his superficial smile. He would give gifts to the influential, and make allies out of former enemies. It looked quite touching, the hardy Gryffindor being bold and making new friends, conquering the lines separating the houses.

But Tonks was a metamorphmagus, and appearances had always been her specialty, physical or not. She had learned to study people, and gauge their actions in case she would ever have to take their form. And so, it was a shocking conclusion that Harry Potter was a slimy, slippery Slytherin.

He hadn't always been this way, of course. The Order had trained him over the summer at Grimmauld Place. Harry had been much his normal self with the exception of the sad, wistful smile that he held in place, a remnant of Sirius's death.

Something had happened to him during the year.

Coming up the steps with a silencing charm at her feet, she watched as he moved down the hallway.

A periodic clunking noise caught her ear as she followed. Looking around, she caught sight of a cat. Lamp-like, yellow eyes peered at her from a skeletal frame.

Mrs. Norris.

And where Mrs. Norris was, Filch was soon to follow.

Looking around for her charge, she swore silently. He had disappeared.

The clunking noise increased in volume, and she found herself looking for a broom closet to go hide in. Auror or not, she was still undercover as a student here and would be subject to any detentions brought against her.

Spotting one nearby, she ducked inside as Filch turned the corner.

Closing it silently, she moved backwards, stepping away from the door. However, as she went, she was met with something firm behind her.

Two arms snaked around her waist, pulling her close, a whisper filling her ear.

“Stay still, and be quiet!” the male voice said, his hot breath brushing her neck softly.

She squirmed in his arms and looked upwards, meeting a pair of beautiful green eyes.

“Harry?” she asked, confused. A low, drawn out hum confirmed her suspicions. Before she could get free, however, Filch walked by the door, his shadow visible under the door.

She held her breath, leaning back into the embrace, remembering all the times she had fled from the caretaker, going off with late night escapades with her boyfriends…it had been an enjoyable time. She missed the partying, the wild escapades they went on, the drunken fun they would have in the astronomy towers…

A hand slipping under her robes shook her from her reverie. She froze as the hot flesh went under her blouse, rubbing her stomach softly.

She shook off the temporary stupor and struggled against the tightening hand keeping her in place, making a small amount of noise.

“Is there someone there…?” Filch's voice rang out through the floor. Tonks stopped again, forced to endure the violation.

She gritted her teeth, as the other hand slipped in as well, coming around her back, rubbing her slightly clammy skin. They slithered all over, coiling around her, as a mouth pressed itself against her neck, sucking slightly.

The hands moved upwards, as did the biting kisses, moving up to her chin. She tried, she tried, she tried to get away, but her body wanted this, wanted to be consumed.

What had gotten into Harry? He had never been like th…

Her thoughts trailed off one hand cupped her breast, squeezing slightly. She gasped in surprise, before clamping it shut. What was she to do? It was either getting caught by Filch, or getting bitten by this…this Slytherin. This snake charmer…

A hand reached under her panties, cupping her arse. She stiffened at the touch, her breath catching in her throat as the kisses trailed lower, around her jawbone, down her neck. His hands squeezed again, and wove around her once more.

This…this serpent thing had her and she was losing, she was giving in…but…but it felt so good. But he was young…and, and…

Her argument faded away as the venomous mouth clamped at the base of her throat, and the hands slithered around her chest, up, over, around, and down into her folds.

She sighed slightly, and made one last weak protest.

“Har…Harry…Don…Don't do this…” she was silenced by a mouth crushing her lips, slipped her tongue.

Oh…it was bliss. His warm tongue entered hers, swirling around her mouth, fiddling with her teeth, lapping away at her own tongue…a long drawn out hiss bore into her, tickling her throat, the vibrations going into her very core…

She felt herself slipping away…how had he learned this? He was just a snot nosed ki-…another hiss, a…a snake, the…he was a parseltongue, that's what it was…hisssss

His fingers sped their pace, worming their way into her…

Hissss

…she felt weak in her knees, slightly delirious from the lack of oxygen…

Hissss

…everything was so good, and his fingers reached even deeper…

Hissss

…the world was swaying but she didn't care, just some more…just a little bit more…

And it stopped.

Her eyes snapped open. The hands were missing, her blouse unbuttoned and her robes disheveled.

Where was he?

She looked around frantically, breathing heavily.

The door was open, and she caught a flutter of a cloak before it disappeared from sight.

He was gone.

A flushed Nymphadora Tonks slid to the floor, frustrated. She slammed her fist into the ground.

Damn him.

…………………………

Harry moved away from the closet as quickly as he could, elated in his success.

He headed toward the Fat Lady, taking off his cloak and giving the password before entering.

Harry had reclaimed his cloak and ensured that Tonks would keep her mouth shut about the incident. The Auror wouldn't dare mention his stroll last night to Dumbledore. Doing so would bring up memories of him molesting her, powerful memories that Dumbledore was bound to detect, her weak shields or not. Tonks knew this as well.

She should have, anyways. She taught him Occlumency during the summer.

…………………………

Dressing the next day, he mussed up his hair and went down to breakfast.

Harry arrived late on purpose - Dumbledore would miss him in the throng of students arriving before the bell. He needed to confirm that his secret was safe.

He chanced a glance at Dumbledore once he was sure the old man was looking at him.

Nothing out of the ordinary.

Good, Tonks had kept her silence.

Taking a seat near the middle of the table, he smoothed his robes and filled his plate.

Looking over at the metamorphmagus, he saw her talking to Hermione. Meeting his glance, she blushed deeply and looked away, fidgeting slightly. A sadistic smile lit his lips.

Grabbing the goblet in front of him, he took in her appearance, missing it in the dark of the broom closet. Black hair, blue eyes, and creamy white skin. She looked a lot like…Jamie.

But she didn't compare.

Tonks had been too limp in his hand, too easily led around. Just like that dopey Hufflepuff, Abbot. After his counterpart, he had longed for something comparable.

But he had failed.

The pleasure, the connection between them, her fire…it was unmatched.

She had spoiled him well, and he could no longer find any satisfaction from anyone else. Hannah had been a miserable lay, orgasming early, and sitting back like a limp fish.

The same with all the others he had sampled. He had to do all the work, while they sat there. Neither had the drive that Jamie had. She fit him perfectly, they were beautiful together.

But she had stood him up.

He scowled, his magic reacting to his emotions. He felt a tingling sensation at his fingertips, but he ignored it. The little harlot had dared to keep him waiting.

No doubt she was dancing around with some unappreciative bastard, smirking her ghostly smirks, playing him like a flute with her hands. Oh, how he wished to smother her…wrap his hands around her throat and curse her into oblivion.

His goblet gave a shudder, the pumpkin juice swaying dangerously to its tip.

But she was strong. A budding Dark Lady, Jamie was ruthless bitch, much like Bellatrix Lestrange, whom she had tortured and eviscerated at the Ministry a year before. The Queen of Slytherin House, she tortured her housemates, manipulating and playing them all against each other.

Just like she did you…

He tightened his grip on the goblet.

He would be stronger. He could take her, crush her in his hands…

The dishes shook, and his tablemates looked at him oddly, his eyes staring into infinity with a strange glint in them.

Yes…he would turn her game against her. He would need power…power to beat her to subsmission…to make her pay.

Harry's magic surged in his arm, and he crushed the golden goblet in his hand, the liquid pouring over the table.

She would be his.

…………………………