Harry Potter: Red Weasley The Strange Red Wizard

Tonks felt a strange discomfort as a certain warm, thick milk—one she was all too familiar with—remained inside her. It was the first time it had happened that way, and while odd, it was an entirely new experience for her.

"Not so bad, right?" I said with a grin, giving her a playful pat on the rear.

"Screw you," she grumbled, clearly irritated by the soreness and that strange sensation within her.

"Come on, at least you got through your first time. It'll be much easier next time," I said, stepping back. As I did, I couldn't help but notice how her opening clenched and relaxed, letting my seed drip out between her lips.

"There won't be a next time… or I'll cut off your dick," she growled, trying to get up but struggling due to her weakened and sore body.

"Oh, we'll laugh about this in the future… well, at least I will," I teased, placing my hand on her wound to start healing it.

"I hate you," she panted, her voice laced with both pain and the relief that came with my magic. She gritted her teeth through the initial discomfort, knowing it would soon fade.

"You know, I could leave you like this," I said with a mischievous smirk. "In fact, I'd love to. I know it sounds sadistic, but I enjoy watching you suffer a little for my actions. It reminds me of what I've achieved… and gives me a tiny dose of happiness." Despite my dark humor, I continued to hold her, stroking her affectionately.

"You're insufferable, you know that?" she grumbled, but she didn't resist the embrace, feeling the pain slowly subside, leaving only a faint itch.

"I know, but you love me," I replied, pulling my hands away from her wound and turning her around for a kiss.

"Sometimes I doubt it," she muttered angrily but didn't resist the kiss.

We shared some tender moments until the tension eased. Tonks was still annoyed and pinched me whenever she could, but I endured it until she grew tired.

"Ready to go again?" I joked with a sly grin.

"Don't even think about it," she snapped, shoving me away in frustration, though her push barely moved me. "That area is off-limits… forever."

"Tonks…" I raised an eyebrow, staring at her intently. I saw her shiver. She knew she wouldn't be able to resist for long if I really wanted to.

"I don't want this to become a regular thing…" she pouted, pleading in my arms. While she was still slightly taller than me, my recent growth had significantly closed the gap.

"Fine, we'll stick to the usual most of the time until you start to enjoy it. And as a bonus, I'll heal you every time you get hurt. But eventually, I'll only heal the serious stuff and let you deal with some discomfort… that's the most I'm willing to compromise," I said as if making a grand concession. "Oh, and we'll do it this way for your birthday."

"I hate you… wait, you don't mean your birthday, do you?" she asked, confused.

"No, yours. It'll be your birthday gift," I replied with a grin.

"I don't want a birthday gift like that!" she shouted, smacking me on the chest.

"Too late," I said, silencing her protest with another kiss.

Our romantic moment lasted a few more minutes until she gave in, mentally reminding herself that I was a bastard, that she needed to get revenge, and that she should start preparing her backside for her next birthday. When we separated, she grabbed her torn clothes and shoved them at me with a pout, signaling me to fix them.

Smiling at her childish act of revenge, I pulled out my wand to repair them, as I had so many times before. I wasn't exactly a master at mending clothing, but I could make it last for the rest of the day. Of course, those temporary fixes didn't go unnoticed, especially in that area. It had happened before, and it only fueled the gossip about Tonks and me. But she had learned to laugh it off and sometimes even flaunt it. Naturally, this had completely eradicated any pretense of The Dragons of Albion being a "family restaurant." With our regular clientele of dark wizards and semi-humans, it was rare for ordinary families to show up here anyway.

"So, why did you come? I don't think it was just to wreck my ass," Tonks said, crossing her arms.

"Why couldn't it be?" I replied with a grin, giving her a light squeeze on the butt. Seeing her glare, I relented. I didn't want her to get any angrier and turn into a real pain in the ass. "I was thinking about something I truly envy… and I thought of you."

"I'm pretty sure you don't envy me. If you did, break that pact and let me make you feel what I just went through… and more," she snapped aggressively, clearly hoping I'd take her up on the offer and get a taste of my own medicine.

"Not that," I said, focusing on a small message floating in front of me. I closed my eyes and concentrated.

Tonks watched with a mix of confusion and amazement as my appearance began to change, transforming into an oddly similar version of her. It wasn't a perfect replica—more like a cheap knockoff. Still, the resemblance was undeniable, and her expression of disbelief made me chuckle.

"What do you think? I just copied your Metamorphmagus ability," I said in my usual voice, though it now came from a face that clearly didn't match the tone.

"HOW?!" she exclaimed, stepping closer to inspect my face. Her hands touched my skin as if expecting to find some trace of deception.

"I developed a new skill," I explained, basking in her amazement. "I can copy one ability at a time, but only one. I have to truly desire it, of course. It took me a while to figure it out because, well, there weren't many things I really wanted… until I thought of you. I've always envied what you could do."

"That's cheating!" she shouted, hitting me on the chest with the force of an annoyed kitten. "It's not fair! You just took away what made me special. You can't have everything!"

"Please, Tonks, even without that ability, you're already the most special woman of all." I hugged her, enjoying the irony of her anger.

"You only say that because you're the one benefitting here," she grumbled, burying her face in my chest.

"But you'll benefit from this too," I said with a mischievous smile.

"Oh, really? How?" she replied, though it was clear her tantrum was starting to crumble.

"The next time we do it, I can transform into an even more perfected version of you," I said, trying to sound solemn. "You know, to make the experience more… interesting."

"UGH! NO!" she exclaimed, grimacing in disgust. "I don't want to fuck myself! What kind of pervert does that?"

"Come on, it could be fun…" I teased, laughing as her ears turned red with sheer indignation.

"Don't even think about it," she warned, crossing her arms. "If you try, I'll transform into you. And you know what? I'll do something so unpleasant you'll regret it."

"But you can't have a penis," I replied, trying not to laugh.

"Then I won't," she said with a malicious grin. "But trust me, it won't be an experience you enjoy."

"Fine, fine," I finally conceded. "No weird experiments. But, hey, not even a little curiosity for science?"

"I'd rather stick to what we already have," she grumbled, resting her head on my chest, though her finger continued to poke me in the stomach as a symbolic punishment.

We spent a while longer together, helping her recover while chatting about random things. I knew that if I left abruptly after what I'd done, I'd probably face a vendetta worthy of an enraged Tonks. And nobody wants that.

The business had taken its natural course. During the day, more "normal" wizards made appearances, but when night fell, the place filled with what many would call "the dregs of society." It was curious how we managed to keep the dark reputation from affecting our daytime clientele—a feat Moody claimed was nearly impossible to achieve. But we did it, thanks to my strict rules, our unwavering reputation, and, of course, what we could offer.

As expected, the large, visibly patched tear in Tonks's clothing didn't go unnoticed. The comments, though not spoken aloud, hung in the air. Seeking compensation for what she clearly considered a "soulless violation," Tonks left all the work to me and went off to chat with the witches who frequented the place.

It's surprising how she can argue with me or resist without batting an eye, but in front of the gossipy witches, her attitude completely changed. From my corner, I heard her boasting with a mix of pride and theatricality:

"My man decided it wasn't acceptable for me to keep that hole pure. He decided to devastate me to the point of reforming my intestines. And, well, he filled me so much that now I'm considering launching a new drink from what's coming out of there."

The excitement on the witches' faces was… peculiar, to say the least. Though what she said was disgustingly graphic, all of them looked at me with a strange glint in their eyes. Desire? Maybe. Tonks didn't stop there; she went on to describe every "detail" with such exaggeration that I almost coughed. If I didn't know her so well, I'd think she was about to climb onto a table, lift her skirt, and provide visual evidence of her story.

She seemed to enjoy it: the jealous and envious looks from the older witches, the nosy questions from the younger ones. Sure, some of what she said was exaggerated, but not impossible. That left me morally obligated to fulfill those claims later so Tonks wouldn't come across as a liar. Yes, that's why…

Setting aside Tonks and her exaggerated narrative, I turned my attention back to my new skill. Metamorphmagus abilities were interesting but also complicated if you didn't know how to control them. I remembered Tonks's old clumsiness. It requires constant active concentration to avoid involuntary changes—something that might be a problem… if I weren't me. Thanks to my experience handling multiple clones simultaneously, the ability wasn't a challenge for me.

I spent the day testing its limits and main features. It was useful, sure, but its temporary nature frustrated me. Unlike my permanent abilities, this one couldn't level up. I was sure that if I could develop it like the others, it would reach much greater potential. But for now, I had no solution for that—it would be a long-term project.

I also noticed another interesting limitation: this ability couldn't be shared among clones. Only one could use it at a time, whether it was the main body or a clone, but not both simultaneously. I could transfer the ability from the main body to a clone, but not the other way around. However, if a clone acquired it directly, it would retain the skill until it disappeared, at which point the ability would return to the main body. This behavior differed from my alignment ability.

The "Good Alignment" I acquired from Elize, seemingly permanent, could be distributed freely among my clones. Some could have it while others didn't, depending on what I decided. This opened a window for experimentation: could I replicate this with my other innate abilities?

Many questions came to mind: could I create a clone without my Evil Alignment? What would happen to my other skills? So far, I'd created clones without magic or blood magic, but that didn't mean they were completely devoid of it; it was just as if the meter was stuck at zero, though the bar still existed. But could I create a clone with no trace of that magic in its being?

The idea was intriguing: a clone completely free of my blood magic, my red eyes, and red hair. Perhaps I could see what I'd be like without all of that—without the powers that defined me. It was something worth exploring.

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