A/N: I'm beginning to think I may procrastinate. Just a little. But honestly, it has been seven months. When I've been missing for that long, send a search party! Also: I actually printed out the entire story of The Stalker, and, in case you were wondering, it is only sixteen printed pages long. Not counting this chapter. (Which is totally going to be nine pages long. …okay, maybe not.) For all the time I've kept you lot hanging, this is disappointingly short. Huh.

Disclaimer: Insert witty and nonsensical thing here.


The Stalker


Previously, on The Stalker

There was lots of explanation and backstory, which I'm sure you don't want to hear again, so I'll just skip it, at the beginning and middle of the chapter—though, amazingly, not so much at the end. Monica took a shower—gasp!--and walked down the street with wet hair, and climbed a tree, all while whistling Beethoven's Fifth! She sat in the tree outside Harry's window for ten minutes, thinking he was asleep, only to find that he wasn't! Dun dun dunn! His Aunt Petunia—who wasn't really a petunia, but a daisy in disguise—called up the stairs for him that he had a visitor—but Monica hadn't seen anyone even on the street, let alone at the door! And the door wasn't even open! Monica swore loudly—by which I mean she snapped loudly, so as to keep very little swearing in this story, because I don't want it to sound like real life.

Now, back to the story…

Monica blinked. A visitor! How would that work? The door was closed, and no one had come down the street and—the back door! But what kind of visitor would use the back door? No matter, she told herself, I'll check it out regardless. Except that she didn't actually think the word "regardless", it was really more like "reopelkdjiss", because Monica actually thinks in an alien language.

I mean. She's completely normal. And not strange at all.

In any case, she jumped—or shimmied—down the tree, and ran—obviously and blatantly—around the house to listen at the back kitchen door. She briefly considered peeking in the window, but decided that might be just a little too obvious, and settled in on the ground.

After thirty seconds or so of silence, Monica decided that the kitchen probably was not where the conversation was taking place. So she snuck through the door, very loudly, so as not to arouse suspicion. She crept through the curiously unlocked door and listened by the kitchen door that lead into the hall. A further thirty second silence, and Monica decided to listen at the door that lead into the living room.

"So sorry to bother you," an unfamiliar voice was saying, "—and to pop in like this—sorry about the vase, by the way—but it's rather important." The Dursleys said nothing. "Ah, well, Harry, could I talk to you in your room?" Curses! Monica thought, because she was clearly unhinged and thought random things like that. She quickly ran back out of the kitchen, around the house, and scampered up the tree like a squirrel. She settled in just as Harry and a woman with curly auburn hair came into the room. The woman looked straight at Monica and winked as she held the door open for the invisible Order member that was on duty today—Emmeline Vance, actually—though Monica didn't know that and thought the woman was being strange, by holding the door open for nothing.

Maybe she has an imaginary friend, Monica thought distractedly as she winked back at the woman, who gave a small smile and turned to Harry.

Of course, Harry didn't notice any of this and just offered the woman a seat on his bed.

"So, Harry," the woman said, "any problems with the Dursleys?" Harry shook his head. "Didn't think so. So, do you think your stalker is any problem?"

Harry looked at her funny, confused. "Wha—I thought you guys were the security here."

The woman shook her head. "Not on this one. Your call. We think she's too funny to get rid of, so unless you mind her, she'll be staying."

Harry looked bewildered. "Er, she's fine, I guess."

The woman nodded and got up. "I'll show myself out then," she said on her way to the door. She stopped and whispered to Harry, "What's her name again?"

Harry looked even more confused, if that was even possible, and whispered back, "Monica."

The woman nodded and walked the rest of the way to the door. "Wotcher, Monica," she said as she opened the door. She winked at Monica again as she closed it behind her, saying, "Bye, Harry."

"Bye Tonks." There was a loud popping sound, and Harry opened the door and called downstairs, "She's gone."

Now Monica was almost as confused as Harry. Not only had this woman—Tonks—seen her, she'd winked at her twice and greeted her. Harry had called to his family that the person leaving the house, presumably by going downstairs, as it seems unlikely she'd go out through the bathroom window, was gone, and to top it all off, she had broken a nail sometime in the last ten minutes.

Harry looked out the window for her. He looked slightly surprised when he saw her and she waved. He looked even more surprised when she talked to him. "So," she said, "who was that?"

"Er, a friend of my—erm, best friend's parents," he told her.

"Ah," said Monica. "That doesn't sound like the kind of person to invite to your room." Harry looked confused.

"I can't hear you."

"Well, I can't very well shout, can I? Then people would think I was your friend instead of your stalker," she told him in a well-duh-that-was-obvious-it's-not-like-this-is-weird-or-strange-or-anything.

"Right," said Harry. "So what did you say?"

Monica sighed. "Hang on." She climbed back down the tree, grabbed a trellis from the dying garden, and hauled it over to Harry's window. Luckily, there were no plants on it, as they had all died the previous summer and Aunt Petunia hadn't gotten around to replanting them—or, more likely, having Harry replant them—as they would just have died and looked ugly anyway. Monica climbed the trellis, which swayed precariously, but didn't give, up to Harry's window. "I said, 'That doesn't sound like the kind of person to invite to your room.'"

Harry blinked. "Why not? And, isn't that a little obvious?"

Monica looked down the street. "To who? You?" She shook her head and laughed a little. "Not likely. And because your best friend's parents' friend doesn't sound close enough to come to your house, let alone your room."

Harry looked away. "It's a bit more complicated than that."

Monica rolled her eyes. "What, are you two involved in an illegal relationship that no one knows about?"

Harry choked and looked back at her. "What? What are you on?"

Monica promptly replied, "Opera crack." Harry couldn't help himself. He actually laughed a little at that, albeit a little woodenly. Monica smirked. "Well, if you don't tell me, I'll find out anyway. That's kind of what's implied in the whole stalker business." Harry nodded.

"Mrs. Figg is coming around the far corner, by the way," he told her. Monica's eyes widened, and she jumped down the trellis and crawled behind it. She's crazy, thought Harry. That is not going to hide her.

Monica curled behind the trellis, peeking out through the holes. Mrs. Figg walked right by the house, waved to Harry, noticed that the trellis was moved, and stubbed her toe, all without seeing Monica, who was hiding so badly it didn't deserve to be called hiding. As soon as Mrs. Figg was around the corner of the street, Monica looked up at Harry's window. She grinned and said, "Now do you see why I won't get caught?"

Harry just shook his head. After all, what can he say to something like that? She clearly won't get caught.

Monica climbed back up the trellis. "So, what's up with that Tonks lady? If you're not having an illegal affair, then what is it? Anything criminal? Anything to do with that evil wizard I'm not actually working for?"

Harry was silent.

Monica glared at him. "You can't honestly expect me to believe that. I may be crazy, but I am not dumb. That's nonsense. I made that entire story up, and if you expect me to believe that, then you've clearly underestimated me." She climbed back down the trellis and up the tree once more. She sat there, arms crossed, glaring at him for a good three minutes, before calling out, "What time is it?"

Harry, who figures he should get used to it by now, called back, "A couple of minutes after noon."

Monica's eyes widened and she practically flew out of the tree. "Late!" was the only thing she said.

Harry shook his head as she ran towards the end of the street. Crazy. Flat-out mad.


A/N: The end of another chapter. I am sorry, my sweets, but I must go! However, a quick note: I highly doubt there will be any pairings at all in this story, though I may make fun of a few. Now, just because I make fun of it or allude to it doesn't mean anything either way. Also: I most likely won't put something in the story that you ask for, though suggestions are welcome. I have only a vague idea where I'm going with this.

But to answer one person's question, yes, there will be more Tonks.