Chapter 2
The morning after his first encounter with the eccentric pink haired girl known only as Tonks, Harry found himself having to unlock the door for his first customer well before the break of dawn. The visitor's head was covered by a hoodie, but Harry had an inexplicable suspicion as to who this mysterious early visitor was.
"Sorry, the shop usually doesn't open until an hour later, but I can brew some... Ah, Tonks its good to see you again!"
With a wide grin, Tonks took off her hood, and reveal a brilliant head of crimson red hair. Hopping into the shop, she pinched the cheeks of the boy who was only slightly shorter than her. Brushing her hands off his reddened cheeks, Harry smiled at the bubbly girl.
"Wotcher, Harry!"
"Brilliant hair, Tonks. Brilliant!"
"Thanks," Tonks said as she hopped happily to a seat by the counter, "Had to come early cause I got a scolding yesterday for being late."
"No problem, Tonks," the boy said happily, "My shop is always open for you. It's pleasant to have a friend to talk to so early in the morning."
"So we are friends now?" Tonks said with a grin, "Aren't things between us moving a teeny bit too fast? Next thing I know, I'll end up in your private quarters."
Blushing madly, Harry shook his head. "Sorry, I was just assuming. You don't have to be..."
"I was only teasing," Tonks interjected with a laugh, "You young boys are so fun to mess with. Of course, I'm your friend."
"Well your friend wants to know your name," Harry said, not disliking her teasing.
"My friend still doesn't know?" Tonks faked an offended gasp, "This friend is a bit slow, isn't he? The name is Tonks."
"You know what I mean Tonks! I want to know your full name."
The red-haired girl hesitated for a moment. She turned her head to stare at the door, refusing to meet the boy's gaze. After a long silence, she caved in.
"Fine," Tonks sighed, "My name is... Dora Tonks."
"That's a not a bad name," the boy said, clearly not noticing the scowl on Tonk's face, "Dora..."
Before he managed to finish, he found his lips pinched shut and a sudden pain in his forehead from being flicked.
"I told you yesterday that if I catch you calling me something other than Tonks, I will... Woah that's a neat scar."
Her anger instantly vanished, and in its place was curiosity. Tonks released her grip on Harry's lips and sat back in her chair.
"Well, at least there is now one person who likes it, Tonks," Harry said still rubbing his swollen cheeks, nervously emphasizing her name, "I had that scar for as long as… well I remember, and my parents said that I already had it on the night they found me."
"So you are adopted?" Tonks asked quietly but seemed fully comfortable in asking these sensitive questions.
"Yeah, and I love my parents for saving me on that night. They said they found me in a little basket on the street not far from the shop. It's sad to think about what could have happened if my parents hadn't come that night. The people who abandoned me left me with only a blanket and a note that didn't explain much other than telling my parents that my given name is Harry."
A streak of shock flashed in Tonks's face, but it was dismissed quickly. The red-haired girl smiled warmly at Harry and took his hand.
"But everything worked out in the end, right?" her question sounding more like a statement.
"That's true," Harry smiled back. "Now how about I give the most diligent customer her latte for free?"
"Yes please!" Tonks beamed.
Harry grinned and offered her a cup of freshly brewed espresso mixed with steamed milk, which was just to her liking. The boy's face lightened as he saw the happiness his brew gave to the girl sitting before him. For the next two hours, the two sat alone in the shop and talked about everything that came to their minds. Harry explained to her his current study of literature, although Tonks looked at him as though Harry was speaking gibberish, and his various hobbies. To his surprise, Tonks also had an unearthly interest in American comic books. When Tonks was asked about her childhood and schooling, she unexpectedly avoided the topic, but Harry did not pursue it any further. Time seemed to fly for the two of them, and in a blink of an eye, it was already time for Tonks to go.
"Will you be coming back again tomorrow?" Harry asked anxiously, yet suppressing the longing from his voice.
"Every morning," Tonks answered. Giving Harry one last wink, she turned to the street and disappeared into the small stream of morning pedestrians.
And the girl fulfilled her promise. Every morning, Tonks arrived at the break of dawn, only occasionally preceded by Mrs. Hudson. The conversations between the teen and the self-proclaimed teen became increasingly intimate. Many secrets and whispers were shared and many tales of youthful adventures were told. The two would be lost in a discussion unless more customers started to arrive. And even when Harry is preoccupied with many customers, Tonks would watch the boy work his way around his shop quietly and marvel at his fervour for work. When it was time for Tonks to leave for her 'secret assignment,' one which she would not satisfy Harry's curiosity no matter how much he begged, the two would part reluctantly. They felt like lifelong friends in a matter of days.
But every dream had a quick ending, and every reality had a harsh awakening.
Two weeks after their initial meeting, Tonks suddenly disappeared from Harry's life. It was as though she never existed. Only then did Harry realize that he didn't know her that well after all. He didn't know where she came from, didn't have her number, didn't know where she worked. The boy felt completely lost and a sudden void filled his entire body. The most painful thought for him was that something had happened to Tonks, and Harry would rather have Tonks forget about him than for that to happen.
Nine days after Tonks's sudden disappearance, Harry was about to close his shop following his regular routine, but he felt a familiar chubby but cold hand on his shoulder.
"Harry, what's the problem?" asked Mrs. Hudson who was just about to leave, "You have been sulking for the past couple of days."
"Its nothing, Mrs. Hudson," Harry forced a smile, "Have a great night."
"This night might be anything but…" muttered Mrs. Hudson, "Be careful tonight Harry, it's not often that I get to see you at these ungodly hours."
Harry, not paying full attention to her words, nodded distractedly. "Yes, Mrs. Hudson, I'll be all right. See you tomorrow."
"Ok dear, but let me know if you need anyone to talk to," Mrs. Hudson frowned as she stepped out the shop, "Those crazy parents of yours will still be away for four more weeks. Sometimes I wonder who is the child and who is the adult."
"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson," Harry waved her goodbye before locking the door, wondering how she knew when his parents would be back.
The moment he flipped around the open sign, Harry didn't sweep the shop or clean the tables as he routinely did every night. Instead, he sank into the seat in front of the counter and rested his head on his folded arms. His mind wandered through all the scenarios that would keep Tonks away from his shop, and none of them seemed more probably to him than the plain explanation that Tonks didn't find him interesting anymore.
Remaining quiet and still, Harry fell fast asleep on the cold wooden counter.
A distant silhouette ran towards Harry in a blur. All the features were indistinguishable in the darkness of the night, but the figure was clearly a girl.
"Harry!" Tonks screamed as she dashed into his open arms.
"Tonks, where have you been?" Harry whispered, locking the girl in a tight embrace.
"Harry... Please," the girl replied weakly.
"Is something wrong, Tonks?" Harry asked as he parted to examine her. Looking at the girl closely, her pale smooth skin seemed to lightly glisten with sweat. Her full luscious lips were painted a mesmerizing shade of blood red. The dark hazel eyes were staring without focus. Her hair, like liquified rubies, flowed until the small of her back.
Running his fingers through her now exceedingly long hair, which he remembered to be short, his hand was brushed by a warm moisture which engulfed his sense of touch. The warmth spread farther up his hand into his arm, and it gently dripped down to his elbow. The scent of rust and iron filled his lungs.
"Tonks?" Harry gently shook the girl. Her head limply rolled back, splashing her crimson hair to the side like a waterfall. Only then did Harry realize that the length of her hair did not change - her crimson hair was flowing with her warm, crimson blood.
Screaming without sound, Harry jolted up. Scanning his surroundings in a panic, the boy was relieved to find himself in the confines of his coffee shop. It was only a dream, more precisely a nightmare. But it felt too real. The scent of blood, the warmth of touch and the soreness from the scream lingered into reality.
How difficult it is to distinguish dream from reality now, Harry mused sadly.
Looking out the window, he saw the darkened night hanging heavily in the sky and tiny raindrops streaking down the stained-glass panels. The street was almost completely desolate, and his shop was one of the very few stores that still had the glow of light. Looking around the room, he saw empty cups and dirty tables along with an unswept floor. Quickly getting to work, making up for the lost time, he walked around the counter but was startled by a sudden thud on the glass panel of the front door. Looking at the source of the noise, Harry found a hooded female figure leaning on the locked door and attempting to turn the rigid handle.
"I'm sorry miss, the shop is closed," Harry's voice projected as he approached the door, "You can come back tomorrow at six."
When he reached the door, his view of the nightly visitor became less obscured by the engulfing shadows. The girl was wearing a rain-drenched hooded leather cloak. Her pitch-black hair blended into the shadows of the night, but stray strands cut across her face, contrasting with her pale white skin. She looked back at Harry with a pair of tired and almost dazed eyes, but their hazel colour was immediately recognized by Harry.
"Tonks?" Harry whispered in revelation.
The boy found himself quickly unbolting the door and forcing it to swing open. Tonks, who was leaning on the door, lost her balance and fell into the shop, but Harry instinctively reached a hand under her waist and caught her into himself.
She appeared different from her normal self. From his memories, her nose was slightly more angular, and her features were as though they were arranged expertly. Now, her face, although not dramatically different, appears smoother and more rounded in an elegant manner and losing none of her beauty.
Tonks momentarily lost consciousness, and she started falling the moment Harry helped her up, but fortunately, she fell into Harry's open arms. With all the girl's weight applied to the boy, he felt every movement of her shallow and strained panting pressed into his body. She was badly injured.
A wave of fear flushed into Harry as he remembered the nightmare he had only moments ago. The two scenes were alike to the point of being sinister.
Please let this be another dream, Harry wished inwardly, although he knew this was not another vision; it was now a reality.
Harry looked down as he felt her hand held onto his extended arm, and what he saw fazed him. Tonks's left arm hung limply at the side of her body, with her hand twisted at an impossible angle. Underneath the leather cloak was a battered Grey shirt, revealing much of her undergarment and blistering skin, and a large hole on her jeans exposed a sickening gash across her right thigh, rendering her leg limp and uncovering her seared red flesh.
Harry was stunned by what he saw, but he quickly shook away the stagger. A sudden rush of adrenaline forced its way into his head and cleared away all previous fatigue. Looking at her bleeding leg, he carefully placed the girl on the floor, grabbed a bottled liquor from the counter, and yanked his sweater off. He hastily removed the cap of the bottle with surprisingly steady hands and poured the chilly water over the large gaping wound. Forcing himself to ignore Tonks's spasms of pain, Harry carefully wrapped his sweater around her thigh, making sure to cover the entire wound, and continued wrapping it around multiple times so that enough pressure was applied.
"Harry!" Tonks gasped as Harry tied the last knot of his makeshift bandage. With shallow whispers, the girl continued: "Please... hide... not safe... coming..."
For a second, Harry thought she was hallucinating from the blood loss, but seeing the desperation in her eyes and the severity of her wounds, those words sent shudders down his spine.
"Don't worry, Tonks," Harry cooed as he held her hand reassuringly, "I'm here, and you are safe now."
Tonks shook her head slowly, still struggling to regain her breath, and a single tear streaked from her eye. "I'm so sorry... I was scared... shouldn't have come... they are coming..."
Hearing those words lit a new flame in Harry's heart. Harry saw that Tonks's desperation wasn't for her own safety, but over how she had jeopardized Harry's. In one strong swoop, he lifted Tonks off the ground, and carefully placed her out of view behind the counter. Turning to the shop's phone and dialed for an ambulance and the police, but was surprised to find that the line was dead. After trying one more time, a renewed wave of fear washed over him. There will be no help tonight.
No matter the cost, he was determined to protect Tonks from whoever - whatever – might be approaching.
Not only protect, Harry determined inwardly, I'll make them pay.
"The police will be arriving shortly," Harry lied to reassure Tonks as he knelt next to her. "Our best chance is to remain here for the time being. The people who assaulted you don't know that you're here, but they can't be too far behind and running out now might catch their attention. Once we wait for a short while, I'll bring you proper medical attention."
Looking at her blood-soaked clothes, Harry quickly realized the trail she must have made and noticed the splatters of blood in the shop.
'Remain calm,' Harry preached to himself, 'Panicking will only hurt her.'
The situation felt distant yet familiar, like a faint trace left by some repeat of time. Harry did not know how to explain it, but he felt prepared for what was about to come. He knew what he must do.
Her sudden disappearance and her line of work convinced Harry of the immediate danger they were in. Tonks didn't make herself known or cry for aid when she ran, suggesting that she believed concealing herself would give her a better chance at survival. A typical street thug would run away if she made a ruckus.
'They didn't care if others she got help,' Harry realized. 'They targeted her, and they would continue doing. They are professionals.'
Harry didn't bother to guess how she managed to find herself in so much danger. His only thoughts were to find a way to save her. The thought of carrying her to a nearby police station was quickly discarded. With her injuries and the conspicuous nature of the two on the streets so late at night would prove devastating. It was safer to remain in the shop until he was sure the assailants have gone by.
Painfully looking back to her wounds, he found that other than the large cut which wrapped around her thigh, all the other cuts we on her sides or her back. Seemed to have been made while she was running, back turned to her assaulters, which means the attackers were proficient with throwing knives or some sort of cutting projectile. The lack of gunshots or any indication of firearms was a good sign, but no more than taking away a branch from a burning fire.
'They were toying with her,' Harry fumed, 'These wounds were deliberately meant to torment her… not kill.'
Tearing his eyes away from her blood-soaked figure, Harry returned his gaze to the entrance.
Blink
Two men, dressed in black overcoats, stepped into the shop in rapid succession. The first man seemed to be scanning the room while the other quickly approached Harry, who was standing behind the counter.
"Sir, we are closed," Harry informed him in a startled but unwavering voice, "I would have to ask the two of you to leave."
Harry didn't dare take his eyes off either of the two men or even shoot Tonks, who was lying on the ground by his foot, a quick glance in case that blew her cover. The man now directly in front of Harry, being the larger of the two strangers, covered most of his line of sight. He quickly reached over the counter and with a gloved hand, grabbed Harry by the collar and pulled him until the boy was mere inches from the assailant's face.
"You see here punk," the man growled dangerously, reaching into his back pocket with his free hand, "I am not going to ask twice, was there a girl here short moments ago?"
Harry intentionally mumbled nervously and slowly stuttered: "Ye…yes… th…there was a-a red-haired girl…. But please I don't know anything! Please!"
"Where did she go!" The man demanded, pulling Harry farther towards him, but released his other hand from his pocket.
"I don't know!" Harry replied quickly, "wait-wait I remember! She appeared quite injured when she stumbled into my shop… I asked her if she needed help but she quickly got up and fled down the street that way."
Harry pointed in the direction opposite from the one Tonks came from. The two assailants' gazes followed his finger, and seemed satisfied with that answer. The two men clearly did not perceive Harry as a threat and did not seem to have taken out their weapons.
"Not a single word of this punk, if you know what's good for you," the man threatened as he gestured for his partner who was at the back of the shop looking through the windows.
The two men quickly exchanged some hushed words and proceeded to the exit.
Harry released a sigh of relief, causing the shorter man to look in his direction. Suddenly his body tensed and he grabbed his partner's arm.
"What's the issue! We have to get going"
"The boy lies," the shorter man said, nudging his nose in the direction to the right of the counter.
Harry froze. The trembling of his hands and the sudden breathlessness of adrenaline burned his chest. He looked to where that man was staring.
Blood. A small patch of blood where Harry laid Tonks on the ground to patch her wound. The stains trailed behind the counter, leading to where Tonks was hidden.
"Gentlemen," Harry said in surprising calmness, "There is a perfect explanation, but before I continue, where did the where did my keys go?"
The two men flinched in confusion by the question out of context, and that was all it took for Harry to run back and leap over the counter. Heart racing, he sped towards the man closest to him, which was a mere three feet, and gripped his fruit knife firmly in his right hand. His target responded by reaching for the weapon in his back pocket with his left hand and poised to intercept Harry's throat with his other hand, which was a vital mistake. Dodging the man's swing arm, Harry thrust his knife upwards into the man's exposed neck and felt the dampness of the blood which soon followed the wound.
The dying man gurgled on the viscous blood pouring from his throat. Desperately, he clawed at Harry and clung to his shirt while attempting to stop the flow of blood. The other assailant recovered quickly from the surprise and instantly converged on Harry, who struggled against the rigid grasp of the fallen man.
Harry kicked at the dead man's cling in rapid successions until his grip was finally released. The young man barely had time to glimpse at the quickly approaching figure before screaming under the burning of cold steel stabbed into his stomach. Trembling, Harry looked down to see the death he had mercilessly inflicted, a fate which he knew he would soon share.
With his last breath, Harry tried to tell Tonks to run but was cut short by another sharp pain and the darkness that engulfed his consciousness.
