Disclaimer: (for all chapters) I do not own Harry Potter or any it's characters.
Chapter One: Wounds That Run Too Deep
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I'm so tired of being here
Suppressed by all my childish fears
And if you have to leave
I wish that you would just leave
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I looked up at the dreary grey sky, my features immediately changing to match it. These days my metamorphmaging powers seemed to blank me into my surroundings, and I no longer had the will to change back.
"I'm giving you an assignment, Tonks," came a tattered voice from behind me.
I turned, and met the gaze of Minerva McGonagall, holding a large yellow folder in her arms. McGonagall's once shining, sharp brown eyes had dimmed to a sad, defeated hazel. Her pale, papery skin looked almost unreal, and I feared she wouldn't be able to hold up much longer. The Second War had certainly taken its toll on her. It had taken its toll on all of us.
"OK," I replied, feeling too absorbed right then to inquire any further. I still was examining McGonagall with sad contempt. I couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if Dumbledore had not passed, and the responsibility of the Order had not fallen into Minerva's hands. It is, and was, too much for her to handle, and we all knew she was slowly and silently cracking under the pressure. We all pitied her terribly, but what could we do? She was the only person for the job, rather of course than Dumbledore.
McGonagall frowned, but the once penetrating and near terrifying effect this held was gone. She looked merely exhausted and grouchy. "I need you to go and check out a small village in Calais, as there have been a few reports of Dementors sightings." Minerva sighed, and rubbed her temples somnolently. "Just when we thought we had them rounded all up," she murmured quietly. Then, straightening up, she continued, "I need you, accompanied of course by few other members of the Order, to go and check it out. Be very thorough and careful. We can't afford any mistakes." McGonagall handed me the folder, and tightened her jaw with displeasure. "I'll discuss this further with you and your companions at the next Order meeting." Minerva turned to go, and then bristly stopped, her eyes glistening. "And, Nymphadora, try and get some rest. If I do say so myself, you have been looking much like an Inferi these past months."
McGonagall nodded, and Disapparated quickly into oblivion.
I sighed, scrunched my face up, and forced my features back to normal. But as I stood up and began to walk slowly towards my flat, I knew she hadn't just meant my metamorphmaging powers malfunctioning. I was just simply a wreck.
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Cause your presence still lingers here
And it won't leave me alone
These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase
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I stopped walking abruptly, and looked back at the depressing, lonely beach I had just
left. I remember, as a child, going there almost every day, along with my mum and dad. It had been so beautiful and comforting back then. Now, as I gazed back on it sadly, it just looked deserted and destroyed, as did almost everything nowadays.
I closed my eyes and concentrated as hard as I could on my flat. I just wasn't in the mood to walk there anymore.
A second later, I reappeared outside of my front door. Not even bothering to check if any Muggles had seen me, I fished my key out of my pocket and let myself in.
I looked into my perfectly organized flat and sighed. Jonathan must have come and cleaned it up when I was at work. Sometimes I wish that man would just leave me alone.
I hastily took off my coat and dropped it on the freshly waxed floor. Taking my hair out of its loose ponytail, I flopped down on the couch, my eyes silently observing the walls.
I had many pictures hanging on them, mostly of my friends at the Order and my parents. As I searched them longingly, I felt a painful headache coming on. I had to stop thinking. It never did me any good anymore.
Closing my eyes briefly for a second, I concluded I wasn't going to get any sleep. I had started to think, and now my mind wasn't going to leave me alone. I got up silently, my footsteps so light it was almost if I was floating across the room.
I looked into the large vanity mirror in my bathroom, and felt my insides cringe. My lank, brown hair looked even more depressing than usual, and my tired, grey eyes still held no sparkle, or any sense of my old self. I put my hands to my face, and rubbed my temples softly, trying half-heartedly to rid my forehead of the harsh, sorrowful lines that had chiseled their way onto my skin.
I stood back, and took a long look at my whole self. I could pass for at least forty. I looked nowhere near my actual twenty-six.
And nothing like the Tonks he loved.
At that thought, my hammering head issued a painful surge. I sharply drew in a breath, grabbed a bottle of water, some headache pills from the cabinet in front of me, and walked slowly back over to the couch.
Just as I settled myself down on the couch, pills and water still in hand, the phone rang ear splittingly from beside me.
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When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears
And I held your hand through all of these years
But you still have
All of me
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Annoyed, I checked the caller ID; suddenly wishing I had never gotten involved with a Muggle born.
I let the phone ring a few times, before downing my pills and picking it up.
"Hello," came a voice from the other line, before I even had a chance to speak. "It's Jonathan."
I tried to contain a sigh, and counted to ten slowly and silently. "I know," I finally said, looking down at the couch pensively.
Jonathan gave a shrill laugh, and I shut my eyes, trying to resist the urge to hang up on him. "Wow, you're talkative, dear," he said teasingly, his voice low.
Don't call me that, Molly Weasley calls me that, I thought, my headache worsening by the minute. "I feel sick," I explained dully.
"Well, I won't keep you long, then," Jonathan said, his voice near sympathetic. No one really was sympathetic to me anymore. They just sighed, and drew a sad face. "I just wanted to ask, are we still on for next Thursday?"
"Unless I have to work." I looked up at a tiny spider crawling across the ceiling and sighed, my eyelids beginning to flutter. The pills were kicking in.
"Great. Er –" Jonathan broke off hastily, for once in his life unsure of what words next to use. "Me mam…she wants to meet you. Are you up to that anytime soon?"
Oh, Merlin. I knew this was coming. As I tried to remain awake, I searched my brain for a good excuse. "I've just got a huge assignment for work," I partly-lied; suddenly glad of my encounter with Minerva today. "It's out of town."
"Oh. Well, I'll be sure to write. I'll miss you."
I tried to smile, I really did. But nothing ever shows on the outside for me. My workmates seem to have grown accustomed to calling me 'Ghosty' now. Charming, I know.
"Good," is all I finally managed to choke out.
"OK. Er – well, back to my mother," said Jonathan, and for once I had the distant feeling of amusement. "Are we…ready for that?"
I took a deep breath, and closed my eyes. I really couldn't even answer myself. Was I ready for that? I knew…I knew I could never get over him, but I also knew I would never get him back. At that, a cold feeling of remembrance made it's way into my system. Ignoring it frantically, I quickly blurted, "Yes."
"Great," Jonathan stated, and I could feel him smiling on the other line. "I'll talk to you later, darling. Bye."
With a sigh, I hung up the phone, and fell back onto the couch, sleep coming instantaneously.
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You used to captivate me
By your resonating light
Now I'm bound by the life you left behind
Your face it haunts
My once pleasant dreams
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I woke up later that day, my headache gone, and my body numb. I stood, and stalked over slowly to the kitchen, trying to rid my brain of the dream I had just woken up from. Not that it wasn't same one I had been having almost every day for the last year. I should be getting used to it by now.
I shivered, and suddenly realized the numbness my body was feeling wasn't just from a bad dream. I looked around. My flat was practically an igloo. I exhaled slowly, and to my amazement, my breath was visible. It must be less than five degrees in here.
I shook my head, opened the cupboard, and grabbed a package of hot chocolate mix. I dumped it quickly in some water and shoved it in the microwave, magicking it to go faster. While I was waiting, I ran to my bedroom and threw my warmest sweater over my head.
At that point, the microwave had begun to blare noise angrily. I plugged my ears, and sleepily trudged over into the kitchen. I grabbed the cup, and then dropped it abruptly on the floor, soothing my burnt hands and swearing. It was hot.
"Shit." I looked down at the cup blankly. Go to hell, I thought menacingly at it. Why can't I just have a damn cup of cocoa?
Slowly, I levitated the remains on the counter. Dropping them down unforgivingly, I walked forward to examine the broken cup. It was the little broken pieces of my once favourite cup, a blindingly pink colour.
The last item resembling anything close to my old life.
I dropped them hastily into the garbage, and went off into the living room. I sat ungracefully down on the couch and looked around. No windows were open. How the hell did it get so cold in here?
I looked behind me at the thermostat. It had to be broken, or something. Closing my eyes tightly, I snuggled down onto couch, shivering like mad.
Vaguely, I wondered when the next Order meeting would be. I wanted to know more about my assignment. Right now, it seemed pretty boring, and routine. I was assigned a case almost just like this last week. Turned out to be nothing. Still… Calais. McGonagall wouldn't send me other there unless it was something important, as mostly we just investigate England and Wales, and leave everything else to their Aurors.
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Your voice it chased away
All the sanity in me
These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase
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Rubbing my eyes and forearms, I stood up, my teeth now chattering away loudly.
I should probably talk to the landlord about the heat, I thought, yawning. Though…I leaned over slightly backwards to look at the calendar by the kitchen window. It's Tuesday. Which is his 'self-proclaimed' day off.
Suddenly, a numb shiver can down my spine. Not from the cold however, but I had the distinct feeling someone was watching me. Nervously, I turned around; I saw a large, tawny owl staring at me from the window. I recoiled, and nearly let out a shriek of shock.
It's just an owl, I told myself irritably. Stop being such a baby.
Slowly, I walked towards it, opening the window with a loud squeak. The owl gracefully flew in and landed on my coffee table, promptly sticking out its leg. It hooted elegantly, and shook its head, ruffling up its feathers.
"I'm coming, I'm coming," I murmured, nearing the coffee table. Quickly, I untied the scroll and opened it.
Tonks,
The next Order meeting is in two days, on Sunday. Minerva has said we will be discussing a new mission of yours.
Molly.
I sighed, and laid down the scroll. Obviously Molly was still having troubles conjuring her patronous. Gently stroking the owl beside me, I vowed to put the date on the calendar.
"All right, time to get going," I muttered, my voice barely audible. I lifted the bird up, and expertly let it out of the window.
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I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone
But though you're still with me
I've been alone all along
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A/N: The song I used in this chapter is 'My Immortal' by Evanescance. Please do not sue me - I really have no money at all.