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Disclaimer: This story contains content that should not be read by people underneath the age of 21. It is 100% fiction and has no bearing on reality whatsoever. 100% fiction means real life rape is WRONG. So is Necrophilia. The author does not condone illegal and immoral actions described. If you feel rape in the real world is a good thing, bend over in a prison and whistle dixie. While I'm disclaiming, racism, homophobia and other bigotry of any kind are also really fucking stupid. I don't own Harry Potter series, or any of the characters and make no profit from this story. Please read the story codes to ensure that you are not going to be offended by, or otherwise dislike, the content. This was written for the prompt 'wilipend'.

Description: Tonks' corpse proves too tempting.

Content Codes: MF, pwp, necro



Harry Potter: Nymphadora Necrophilia Part 1
by JD ([email protected])

Filch's role in the Battle of Hogwarts had been limited; his squib nature meant he could offer little assistance beyond assisting with young student evacuation. As soon as it was safe to return to his duties, however, he did so. The school had to be kept tidy and large battles tended to have a negative effect on cleanliness. Grumbling angrily late into the night, he happened to enter the barely candlelit Great Hall. The bodies of the fallen were respectfully laid out all around.

Some might have found a room of corpses spooky, or chilling. Filch did not. The caretaker wasn't about to let the recently departed put the wind up him, not when so many of the less recently dead still wandered the halls and, quite frankly, made far more mess than they ought. To Filch's mind, the removal of every other entity from the school save Mrs Norris would make it a halfway decent establishment - certainly a tidier one.

As he passed, the flickering light caught one face that was notable for how rarely he'd seen it unchanged in some way, small or large. Tonks had worn her own appearance into death, and lay most peacefully alongside her beloved husband. Filch remembered the irritation he had felt when she'd been a student, constantly making trouble; constantly making a mess. He always believed she'd spread unkind rumors about him when he'd complained to Dumbledore.

"She did vilipend me most grievous, the slag! Always castin' aspersions too."

Without really knowing why, he slapped Tonks' face hard. Her head rocked sideways under the blow, and faced Remus. He was surprised to find the skin warm, though the color had drained further from her already pale skin. He wondered if there was some spell in place to keep the bodies un-rotted, or if it was simply part of the decomposition process to grow warm anew. A sudden thought, darkly evil, struck Filch.

The hall was deserted. The school slept. Peeves and his ilk were making no trouble. He reached out with a trembling hand, almost not daring, and placed it on Tonks' still breast. There was no heartbeat within, though certainly more warmth than he'd expected in a dead witch's tit. He squeezed through her top. The flesh was soft, not stiff, and again he suspected magic. His hands shook violently for a moment, and then he steadied them, each to a breast. Ugly old Argus Filch gently molested Tonks's attractive corpse with calloused hands.

It had been a very long time since he had known sexual desire. Even as a young man, the messiness of females had been a source of constant discontent for the young squib. Tonks would nevermore make a mess, not outside her grave at any rate. Still groping the pale beauty, he lowered his face to hers with trepidation. His greasy, balding, hair fell across Tonks' smooth skin as he gently pushed his tongue into her mouth. There was a slight taste of sour bile, but it was still the best kiss of Filch's life.

He suddenly pulled away. His saliva glistened on slack lips. Her face rocked gently back towards her husband, as if silently pleading for Remus' aid. He scolded himself for his depravity, for his immoral behavior. Yes, Tonks had treated him with the same contempt as all the others did in life, but that was no reason to violate her body in death. He gulped, painfully aware of his insistently throbbing erection. Shamefully, his powerful arousal overcame the shreds of morality and good sense, the little voice that told him he'd surely be caught.

He fumbled with Tonks' clothing, forced up her top, and exposed her milky skin. The tang of cold sweat upon her breast was like a taste explosion as he hurriedly stripped her. She looked so still, so tidy, he knew he was going to have her, and damn the consequences. He managed to get his pants around one leg as he climbed onto Tonks. Small drops of fluid splashed against smooth skin, as he gently rubbed his hardness against her belly.

It took him long seconds to find her entrance. He had little experience, decades past, and tried for her urethra. She was no lover, able to offer him advice. She was as much Filch's victim as she had been her aunt's. The penetration was dry, but death had brought slackness there, too. Filch finally thrust in hard. He had no idea his organ could feel any better than it did inside Tonks. Grunting like a beast all the while, he humped her hard, and forced slobbery kisses she could never again resist. He tried to pull her legs up around him, but they flopped limply down. It didn't really matter. He felt equal parts shame and satisfaction in the act, the dry warmth inside still provided pleasurable friction to the old caretaker.

"You'd really despise me now, wouldn't you?" he gasped between kisses.

Tonks eyelids had slid up revealing her death glazed eyes. It seemed to Filch that she viewed him with contempt from even beyond the veil. Enraged, he pulled back hard on her hair so he didn't have to face her accusatory stare. He began to really pound hard, angrily, into Tonks' body. Her limbs and head jerked under the brutal onslaught until Filch stiffened and spewed his load into her once child-bearing womb.

He'd made a mess. He didn't like that at all. He couldn't even enjoy the post climax moments because of the mess. He withdrew, quickly. He'd come deeply inside Tonks, and while her cleft gaped he could see no discharge leaking. Working fast, he re-clothed her corpse, and left her body almost as he had found it.

She lay peacefully beautiful in death, his grubby cleaning rag removing the last of the spit from her face. He felt he ought to apologize, but couldn't find the words.

Filch scuttled off, afraid for his future.

Unaware that he'd already been seen.

To be continued...

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