This is the first piece of Fanfiction I have ever written. I was trying to take a nap, and I couldn't get this damn idea out of my head, so I sat down and pounded it out. I have no idea if I will continue this story, as I have no ideal if I actually like doing this yet. It has been a long time since I have written anything for fun, and I have never been accused of being a good writer. Constructive criticism appreciated.
"Harry, love, come on, you need to get up."
With a blink Harry Potter's unfocused and glazed over eyes snapped back into focus, well, as focused as they would get without his glasses on. He had been laying in bed for four days now, ever since he had arrived back at Pivit Drive from Kings Cross station. When the Dursleys had picked him up from at the station, he noticed the Vernons new car was already stuffed full of luggage. He had been forced to release Hedwig and strap him trunk and the owl cadge to the roof of the car for the trip back to him 'home'. When the arrived back at Pivit Drive, Harry was mildly surprised to to see that the Dursleys didn't leap out of the car and stampede into the house in an effort to get away from him. Instead, Vernon twisted around in his seat and quite plainly told Harry that they wanted absolutely nothing to do with him and therefor would be taking a vacation starting that second, and wouldn't be back until mid August. Harry was also warned, in no uncertain terms, that if anything happened to the house he would be hunted down and castrated.
As soon as Harry got his luggage of the top of the car, Harry's Uncle smashed the cars gas peddle, ripping out of the driveway and down the block, leaving only two smoking strips of rubber on the pavement and a 100 pound note clenched in Harry's fist. His food budget for the summer.
Harry drug his trunk and owl cage up to the front door, only to find it locked, and dead bolted. He smirked slightly and a small giggle escaped his lips. Leaving his trunk on the front steps, Harry made his way around to the back door, only to find that it was locked as well, the spare key kept under the mat missing. Harry slumped down against the door and began to laugh. Hysterically. He laughed over the Dursleys; locking him out of the house, the 100 pounds they gave him to feed himself for a summer, the years of physical and mental abuse he suffered under their care, they were his 'family'. He laughed over the prophecy; he would never beat Voldemort in a duel, the way Dumbledor told him half an hour after the death of his godfather, and the destruction of the headmasters office that followed. Harry laughed over the death of his godfather; the foolish acts that lead to his death, their supposed relationship, Kreacher, Bellatrix and the failed Cruciatus curse, and the irony of it all. Harry laughed about his life, it seemed as if some higher power found it amusing to make him as miserable as possible, and he found it to be absolutely hilarious.
The chilling laughter that rang throughout the neighborhood slowly died out, leaving an exhausted young man laying on the back porch trying to catch his breath and wiping a few tears of mirth from his eyes. He eventually managed to stand up. Pulling his shirt off, he wrapped it around his hand and punched out a window in the back door, enabling him to reach in and unlock the door. Deciding that he was hungry, Harry promptly emptied the fridges contents onto the kitchen table and stuffed himself until he felt like puking. "First decent meal I've ever had here" he muttered to himself as he ascended the stairs to his room. After kicking his door open the exhausted young man lay down on his bed and fell into a deep and mercifully, dreamless, sleep.
That was three days ago now, and Harry had let to leave his bed for anything other than bathroom breaks and a bit of water. He needed time to think. His godfather, Sirius, had died for him. Why? Harry's conversations with his godfather probably totaled up to less than two hours in length. They hardly even new each other. So why did it seem like they had such a strong bond? It was not hard to figure that part out. Sirius was the only father figure Harry had ever had and Harry was Sirius last link to James. Harry realized Sirius may have even gone to the ministry that night with the intent to die during battle, in some attempt to atone for his mistakes 15 years ago. Why else would he so foolishly duel on the steps in front of the veil? Surly he knew what it was and did.
Those thoughts and others had led him to the present time. 'Curves, pink hair, Tonks.' he thought to himself, but made no effort to comply with her wish for him to stand.
"Harry. Harry! Come on guy, time to get up. You've been laying on this bed for four days, its time to move."
'Bossy witch.' thought Harry as Tonks grabbed his legs and slid them over the edge of the bed. Grabbing two fist full of the shirt he was wearing she heaved him to his feet. The blood-rush from his head was enough to make him loose his balance and Tonks wound up dragging him across the hall to the bathroom.
"What the hell do you think you are doing Harry? Laying around like that for four days. Have you even eaten? It sure as hell doesn't look like it! Sit down!" she said, shoving him to a seat on top of the toilet. "You're taking a bath, you smell like shit."
Harry smirked a bit, "Thanks, I think."
"Look! It talks!" she growled, shoving his glasses into his chest. As Tonks began drawing the bath Harry slid his glasses into place. Yes, this was definitely Tonks. Light pink hair fell in front of her face as she filled the bath, and her bottom swayed rather pleasantly about a foot from his face as she worked the tap. Harry gave it a very appreciative glance before she turned around.
"Stand up" Harry stood. "Arms above your head" After Harry raised his arms Tonks grabbed his shirt, bending him over and tugging it off before he could protest. When she began to unbutton his pants Harry attempted to jump back in shock, but she already hand a firm grip on his waistline and he didn't get far.
"uh... Tonks? What are you doing?"
If you going to act like a baby, I will treat you like one. That includes feeding you, bathing you, and dressing you." With that said she jerked his zipper down and pulled both his pants and boxers down, leaving a very naked Harry Potter standing in front of her. 'Thats a rather interesting shade of red.' she though. And Harry's face was, in fact, a rather interesting shade of red once he realized what had just happened.
Tonks gave him an appreciative glance up and down, and in a feeble attempt to preserve his modesty Harry grabbed the nearest towel in attempted to cover himself. Unfortunately, it was a washcloth, which did not leave much to the imagination. A slight smile crossed her lips.
"Merlin, Harry. Not to bad for a skinny little shrimp."
"Wha-What!"
"Nothing to be angry about love, now get in the tub." replied Tonks as she pushed him towards the bath.
After seating himself in the tub, Harry looked up and was rather surprised to find that Tonks was still in the bathroom, and still watching him. Tonks, having thought that Harry's face couldn't possibly turn more red, was pleasantly surprised when it did.
"Uh... Do you think I could have some privacy?"
"Nope." Replied Tonks as she threw a washcloth into the tub with him. "Start scrubbing Harry."
As Harry lowered his head in embarrassment and began to clean himself, Tonks took the opportunity to study him carefully. 'Merlin, he looks like shit. So pale, and skinny. I can almost count his rips!'
At that moment Harry looked up, locking eyes with her. Nymphadora's breath hitched when she examined his eyes. Gone were the bright, vibrant eyes that she knew and loved. Replacing them were cold, dead, emotionless eyes that seemed to fill her very soul with sadness. After a minute of staring into each-others eyes, Harry spoke.
"I am sorry Nymphadora."
"Harry, don't. No one blames you for what happened to Sirius..."
"No, not that. Well yes, that too. But thats not what I am talking about. I know I'm not to blame for his death, well, not for the most part anyways. He went to the ministry knowing that he would die. No Nymphadora, I am sorry that I will fail you, I am sorry that you will die." Tonks gasped. "I am sorry that you, and the few other people I care about will die at Voldemort's hand. Im sorry that you and others will be tortured simply so he can make me suffer. Im sorry that I am dying, and there is nothing I can do to stop it, or him. Have you ever seem your life force, Tonks?" Harry's eyes stayed locked on hers. "I have, its one of the things I saw while laying in that bed. He is draining me, through our connection. My magic is fighting it, but as long as he is more powerful than I, he will continue to drain, slowly but surely." Harry let out a bitter laugh. "It took me a year to notice. Im sorry Nymphadora, when you leave it will hurt me the most." Those eyes...
Tonks, eyes moist with tears, gasped out "No, its not true... It cant happen, I wont let it. I wont let you die, Harry Potter. And I wont leave you!" She broke down in sobs, burying her face into her hands.
Harry gave her a brief, sad smile. No longer caring that he was naked, Harry got out of the tub, wrapped Tonks in her arms, and allowed her to cry into his chest. "No, I wont let it happen, not like that!" She screamed into his chest, struggling to break free. Harry held her until she stopped struggling, and they sank to the floor together. Harry held her as she sobbed into his chest for what seemed like hours, crying for all her fears, the war, Sirius, and Harry. Another sad smile playing across his lips as her ragged breaths slowly became deeper and smoother.
"I'm sorry."