The Taste Of Revenge

8

"Dance with me my old friend,
Once before we go
Let's pretend this song won't end
And we never have to go home,
And we'll dance upon the chandeliers." He was far too precious and perfect, Tonks decided, holding the tiny boy to her chest. Dante was special in a way that made him the most important thing in the world to her, at that point in time. He was special in the way he held her hand as he slept, in the way he smiled when he made her laugh,

"Nothing matters when we're dancing.
In tatter tatters you're entrancing.
Be we in Paris or in Lancing,
Nothing matters when we're dancing." And every night, when he would bury his face in her neck and, between yawns, ask her to sing for him. That particular one was his favourite, he would curl up on her lap like a cat, and let her sway him side to side as she sang. Between them, it was a way of escape. A way to try and forget when one of the pack would come in and attack Tonks for sport. Every time, Dante would scream and cry for her, and every night she would sing him into a fitful sleep.

She was weak.  It had been nearly two months, and every movement, however minor, coaxed a whimper of pain from her dry throat.  Prolonged exposure to the Cruciatus Curse had taken its toll on her muscles, she never stopped shaking anymore.  Not to mention the healing wounds on her skin forced upon her with a knife.  The next full moon was the following night, and she was certain that she wouldn't last until next week anyway.  Not that any of the Order were looking for her, if they were she would've been found long ago.  Did they even know she was gone?  Or did they just not care?

"Take him away!" A loud voice shouted from beyond the door, the rise in her fear was instant.  It sounded like Greyback, but she had never heard him like that before. Dante whimpered slightly, pressing himself closer to her as she held him.

"Dora?" He whispered, clutching at the filthy remains of her dress. Looking up at her, Tonks saw the fear in his large, blue eyes. His face was smudged with dirt, as she was sure hers was as well, and his dark blond curls were matted with the mud that coated the floor.

"Its okay little man." She breathed into his forehead, holding him as close to her as she could, "They're not coming in."

As soon as the words had left her lips, the door was flung open; splinters flying everywhere. Greyback staggered into the room, falling from side to side as he struggled to find his balance. Eventually, his glazed eyes fell upon the two bodies curled together in the corner.

"Get the boy out." He slurred, taking several stumbling steps towards them.

"No!" Tonks shouted, jumping to her feet and pushing his lumbering form away.  Her body screamed at her, but the pain barely even registered. Crying softly, the small boy clung to her chest, trying to find security in her tight arms, "Don't you dare touch him!" The werewolf was drunk, absolutely hammered, there could be no doubt he was at his most dangerous.  The strong hands of Thaddeus were reaching for them, snatching Dante's tiny figure away from her before she even had a chance to fight back.

"Leave him outside." Greyback growled, seemingly finding his feet as he took a couple more steps towards her, "I'll deal with him later."

"You hurt that boy and I swear I will fucking tear you limb from limb." Tonks glared at the man once the door was repaired and locked. She ought to be afraid, he was drunk, he was dangerous; and she was alone and defenceless. But, for now, her anger far outweighed any other emotion that coursed through her veins, "You can do anything but just don't hurt him. Please."

"Not yet." Shuffling closer to her, Greyback tried to smile; his breath reeked of a sickly mix of blood and drink.  He breathed out onto Tonks's face, his shallow breaths only making her more afraid, "I'll hurt him later."

"What do you want?" Hissing in his face, the young woman wrapped the remains of her dress further around herself.  By that point though, the beast of a man was already looming over her.  His wide eyes briefly flickered down, but he didn't look back up.

"So perfect." He murmured, unsteady gaze remaining on her, far too overexposed, cleavage.  Slowly, his hands began to trail up her body, cold on the bare skin between the rips of the dress.

"No." She spat at him, shoving his roaming hands away just as they reached her chest, "I will never let you have me like that.  Don't you dare."

"Oh, I wasn't thinking about asking you." Smirked Greyback, pulling her out into the centre of the room.  His large hands held a painfully tight grip on her upper thighs, pressing her hips against his.  Looking him straight in the eye, Tonks brought her knee up and went to strike him sharply between the legs.  For a brief moment, she thought she had hit her mark; his body shook slightly and his twisted smile disappeared.  Until his hand was wrapped around her bare thigh, having moved faster than she had to hurt him, "Stupid bitch." He growled, feeling around the shape of her leg, slowly hooking it around his waist.

Tonks tried again to push him away, struggling to hold her balance as his newly found grip on her waist tightened.  Releasing her with one hand, the other retrieved his wand from his pocket.  A quiet spell, and a large pile of soft animal skins appeared on the floor beside him.

"Stay the fuck away from me you monster!" Tonks yelled, fighting against him with every remaining ounce of her waning strength.  He didn't let go of her, he didn't stop.

She cried, she bled, she screamed; never once did he stop trying to cause her pain.  He could do whatever he wanted, she was powerless and weak.  Fenrir Greyback didn't leave until her body was aching and torn, or until her mind was broken. 'Maybe death isn't too bad an option', she thought, falling unconscious as the darkness descended over her mind.