I Will Follow You into the Dark

By deadheadwookie27

*AN- Hi everyone. I know it has been a long, long time since I have put anything new out. I am truly sorry. I kinda fell out of it to be honest. But, gotta love Hollywood, eh? Seeing the DH Part 1 brought me back into the FF world. And I must say, I am not diggin the Harry/Hermione anymore. Sorry, sorry, sorry for all the people waiting for my other stories, but to be honest, I don't care. It's my choice what to do and what not to do. I'll finish them someday, but at the moment, I am completely enamored with Harry/Tonks stories. I always had been, but now it is like a full on thing. They go so good together! That is why I wrote this song fic. Oh, look out for these from me as of lately. I have many, many songs I can do.

So this one… Well I will let you read it. I know Tonks may seem out of character, and there really isn't much background information. But, and I don't want to toot my own horn, some of you know I hate doing that, there are plenty of worse stories out there. I hope you like it and keep a look out for my new tale Order of the Black Phoenix, which is loosely based on COD Black Ops. Enjoy!

Sometimes, it is what is not said that matters most. Sometimes, when you are with the person you care about above all others, you don't have to say a word, let alone make a noise to let someone know that you love them. This was the case in a flat right outside of London.

Both the man and woman shifted on the couch, his head resting in her lap. It wasn't uncomfortable, it was quite cozy. Snow was falling outside. There was nothing moving in the world. There was nothing in the world besides the two of them.

The man wore a scar. Not the scar he was famous for, the one which haunted him for years and years. No, he had another scar. The other one, the one no one could see. You see, it had once been a wound. A wound deep and a wound that was eternal, or would have been. It ran from his chest to his brain. He felt it ache in the morning when he was alone. It cried when he got the call saying he would have to wait for there was work to be done. But it was not as bad as it had once been.

Once it had almost killed him, or rather, made him kill himself. Things were different now. The wound no longer spoke to him; it no longer had a hold on his mind.

In another life, one where he had stared at the wall each and every day for hours upon hours upon hours, the life where he didn't eat for days, the one where he slept with both eyes open, speaking to no one, the wound would whisper to him.


My boy, it would say, is it really worth the trouble? Does life really matter at this point? Who is to say that you will ever find…, it paused for a moment before spitting out, happiness? Harry, my dear, dear Harry, why not just save you the trouble? It would not take much, lovely.

"She may come around," Harry said, his voice betraying his input. "I love her, I always have. No other woman has had such a hold in my life, you know."

Oh, I know, dearest, the wound chided, sympathetically, almost. But I also know that she is your weakness. You would die for her, you would kill for her. You would give all your money for her. You may jump when she asks of it, you may cry when she needs to see it.

"Bugger off!"

You only lash out at me because you know I am right. She makes you confused, confused as to why you care so much. Confusion is one of those things, my darling, that makes life worth so little. You don't need this confusion. And you especially do not need it over a woman who will never give you what you want, what you need to live.

"You don't know that!" Harry threw something.

He could… feel the scar smile.

But you do, Harry. That is why you are reacting like this. You know she will never be yours.

"Stop talking!"

I will never stop, I am trying to help. I want the pain to be gone. I want you to feel comfortable.

"Then why are you torturing me?" He was crying, drinking a strong glass of something that hurt his nose.

Is it I who tortures you? Or is it yourself? Have you finally gone to the brink of sanity, dear? Aren't I just a piece of you? Not truly real, not truly anything more than a drunken stupor that stays with you day in and day out? You made me so as to blame neither her nor yourself. You blame me instead. You throw things because of me. You drink yourself sick because of me. But in reality, it is only you that you want to blame. You should be blaming her, blaming her for the pain, blaming her for nights of tears and curses and fear. But you won't, because you love her more than anything. And that torrent of pain that is in your chest at the moment, that is your heart, Harry.

"I do love her," he whispered. "It's my fault though. I am pining over somebody I can never have." There were tears, there were sobs, and finally he threw the glass bottle against the wall. He went over to his desk and flung the chair through his window. The lamp was smacked onto the floor. He screamed and ripped the television off its stand. He grabbed a piece of glass from the tube and brought it across his hand, splitting it wide. He spilled blood onto the floor, onto his jeans, onto his shirt.

Let it out, Harry. Let all the pain go.

"Shut up! Just shut up!"

He went into the loo and looked at himself in the mirror. A gaunt, sickly, and terrified child looked back. The boy was crying. Harry told him to shut up. Told him to suck it up. He then punched the mirror and broke his hand.

"Wotcher, Ha-… Harry?"

Was it the again? Was it toying with his heart again? Was it making him hear things? Was it playing with his mind?

"Bloody hell." No, it was her. She couldn't see him at the moment. She was still in his living room. He slammed the bathroom door shut and locked it.

Harry ran water over his hand, washing away the blood already there, but more of it was just spilling out. There was a creak in the floorboards. He moved over to the tub, thinking a larger amount of water would help. There were three knocks, subtle, tentative knocks. Then a heavenly voice. A demonic voice. The voice he loved above all and the voice he hated most.

"Harry? Harry are you in there?"

"Go away, Tonks."

The handle turned but stopped.

"Harry, please open the door."

"I said to go away, Nymphadora."

The doorknob stopped turning back and forth uselessly and he heard footsteps walk away. It was easier than he had thought. That was when he realized he was bleeding from his face. He hadn't noticed that he had been beating his own eyes and head. The boy in was back, he could see him in the water pooled on the floor and on the broken mirror pieces. He was sobbing now, bleeding and broken.

See, the wound was talking yet again, if she loved you back, she wouldn't have gone away so eas-

The door shattered as Tonks came barreling through. Wood splintered and flew through the air. Tonks kept her balance and looked at Harry. Her hair turned from short and spiked vibrant crimson to long and straight dark blue. "Harry?" she whispered, looking at his bleeding form with widened eyes. "Merlin Harry, what have you done to yourself?" She approached him but he put a hand up to stop her.

Harry sighed and let his shoulders sag. He gripped the edge of the sink with his good hand, turning his knuckles white. "I told you to leave, Nym. I told you to go away, but you didn't listen. I don't want you to see me like… like this."

He chanced a glance at her, out of the corner of his eye. In all his six years of knowing Nymphadora Tonks, Harry had never seen her sad. Now, she stood before him with red and puffy eyes, holding herself with one arm and covering her mouth with the other. There were tears, much like his.

"Oh Harry," it wasn't pity in her voice, nor was it anger. It was compassion. It was sorrow. It was love. She walked towards him, but Harry flinched so she stopped. "Please, Harry, talk to me!" she pleaded. "Let me help you!"

"Help me?" Harry screamed. "Help me how, Nym? Help me by saying everything will be okay? Help me by sending me to a shrink? Help me by telling that over bearing bitch, Molly? How are you, the one who made me like this, going to help me? Answer me that!"

Yes my child, yes! Let the anger out, let it free!

"Just shut up!" Harry grabbed at his ears and tried to squeeze at his head. The pain in his arm just made him scream. His world spun in a splattered sort of way. Then, without warning, it stopped. There was no pain or no voices. There was only him and Tonks. There was blood, but no sting. There was hurt but no scream.

For her credit, Tonks stood there and listened to everything he said. She didn't shout. She didn't run. She didn't do anything but let a few tears fall. "I love you, Harry."

It was quiet then, besides the running of bath water. Harry sat on the edge of the tub and attempted to hold his head in both hands. His eyes were wide and his heart sped. The broken one wouldn't quite move, so he opted for just one hand. Blood was dripping onto the tile.

He saw a pale hand rest on his knee, with bright pink nail polish. When Harry glanced up, he looked into the blackest eyes he'd ever seen. He saw himself in them. A hollow, fragile, cracked boy; bleeding and crying.

Her face was perfect. There were no other words, in English or any other language, known or lost, to explain it. It was subtle, smooth, round. There were slight freckles on her cheeks right below the eyes, those midnight black eyes.

Her nose rose only slightly. It was small, more of a button nose. It too had freckles. It was the most adorable thing Harry had ever seen.

Tonks' lips were thin, but luscious all the same. She was biting her lower lip and rolling it back and forth, into and out of her mouth.

He focused back on those eyes, the black orbs. They were teary. A tear rolled down her cheek like a raindrop. Harry reached up with a bloody hand and wiped it away with his thumb, leaving a smudge of crimson on her cheek.

Her hair was still dark blue. It was about to happen, Harry knew it. Her brow wrinkled and she took a shallow breath. Her eyelids closed slightly, only about half way, and more water filled the gap, making the black shimmer.

"Tonks, please don't. I-… I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you. Please, just don't-" But Harry's words did nothing to stop it. Tonks began to cry. It wasn't the kind of quiet cry she was doing before. She threw herself at him. She sobbed into his chest. Large and loud sobs. She was shaking heavily. Harry had no clue what to do. Tonks just gripped him tighter every second she held on.

"I'm sorry!" she kept shouting over and over.

"Shh, Tonks, please don't cry. Please…"

"I wanted- sob- for so- sob – long! But Molly- sob- said that it- sob- wasn't righghghghtttttt!"

Tonks was past reasoning. She was begging, begging for forgiveness, begging, begging, sobbing, begging… breaking. Or was she already broken?

"Nymphadora," he said firmly, hugging her shaking frame still. "Breathe."

Her sobbing lightened to sniffling. She had stopped convulsing and simply breathed into Harry's shirt.

Harry didn't feel any pain in his broken arm. He simply rubbed circles on her back. Occasionally he would whisper "It's okay."

At one point he thought that she had fallen asleep. "Nym?" he asked lightly.

"Don't call me Nymphadora again."

He smiled. "I'm sorry, Tonks. You… you didn't deserve that. I just- I don't know. I just kind of lost it."

She looked up from his shirt, her makeup had ran and her black eyes stared at him. She took a deep breath and sat down on the floor. Harry heard her splash and realized that he had left the tub running. They were both soaked. He turned the faucet off and looked at Tonks, the woman that he had loved for so long.

"Harry… I… I don't even know how to start. I came over here tonight because you haven't been looking good lately. No offense, but you have seemed to have had better days." Harry offered a small smile which Tonks returned. It was shy almost. "I came over to see if I couldn't cheer you up. I didn't expect… well, let's just say that I didn't expect this." She motioned to the room around them. "And you look like shite to say the least."

Harry nodded. "Yeah. Yeah I know. I'll be honest with you, Nym, I haven't been great. And to be perfectly honest, it has been because of you."

Tonks' face fell almost to hell. She muttered a sorry.

Harry got off the side of the tub and sat down in front of her. "Now now. No need for you to apologize. It's been me, Nym. Strictly me. I…" he ran a bloody hand through his hair. "Shite, how can I put this gently. I love you too, Tonks. Not as a sister, or a mother, or a friend. You are my best friend. But I love you. You are the first thing I think of in the morning, the last thing I think of at night. You are the one who makes me smile and the one who makes me cry. Thinking about you leaves this gaping hole in my fucking heart! A hole that only you can fill. There was never any Ginny, or never any Cho. Any girl that I supposedly went out with or kissed, that is all rubbish. Since the first moment I met you, I knew it wasn't a silly crush. Your clumsiness, your charm, your face… Oh Merlin your face!

"I don't know how such a perfect thing was ever created. I don't know what kind of sorcery was needed to make you real, Nym. You are more than an Angel; you are more than any other woman. It doesn't matter what form you take. I love you. I love, Nymphadora Tonks! And I know I can never have you. I knew it when I started this tirade, and I know it now. I am sorry I yelled at you. You are too precious for me to lose. You are the most important thing in the world to me, Nym."

Harry shook his head slowly back and forth. The words "I love you," and "the most important," kept spewing from his mouth.

"Harry," Tonks said. "Harry, look at me." And he did. She was smiling at him.

"Harry James Potter," she started, "you have absolutely no idea how happy you have made me. Those were the most… the most incredible, amazing words that anyone has ever said to me. And you should really have more confidence in yourself, Potter." Her lips had slid into a mix between a smirk and a grin. She leaned forward and kissed him. Though riddled with shock, Harry kissed her back before she pulled away; something Tonks had no plans of doing.

When they finally did separate, Tonks kept the distance between them close. She kept her hand firmly on his cheek. "I love you Harry James Potter. I have loved you for so long." And they kissed again, both sitting in a puddle of blood and water.

And so it came to be, that two people who loved each other just had to meet in the middle.


Later on that night, while sitting on the couch with one another, Tonks ran her hands through Harry's hair. He sighed.

"You know something, love?" Tonks asked.


"I love you."

"I love you too, Nym. I love you too."

Tonks leaned down and kissed his head. She took his newly healed hand in hers and leaned down to his ear, and, of all things, began to sing.

Love of mine, some day you will die,
But I'll be close behind.
I'll follow you into the dark.

No blinding light, or tunnels to gates of white,
Just our hands clasped so tight,
Waiting for the hint of a spark.
If Heaven and Hell decide
That they both are satisfied
Illuminate the NOs on their vacancy signs

If there's no one beside you
When your soul embarks
Then I'll follow you into the dark

In Catholic school as vicious as Roman rule
I got my knuckles bruised by a lady in black
And I held my tongue as she told me
"Son fear is the heart of love"
So I never went back

If Heaven and Hell decide
That they both are satisfied
Illuminate the NOs on their vacancy signs

If there's no one beside you
When your soul embarks
Then I'll follow you into the dark

You and me have seen everything to see
From Bangkok to Calgary
And the soles of your shoes are all worn down
The time for sleep is now
It's nothing to cry about
'cause we'll hold each other soon
In the blackest of rooms

If Heaven and Hell decide
That they both are satisfied
Illuminate the No's on their vacancy signs

If there's no one beside you
When your soul embarks
Then I'll follow you into the dark
Then I'll follow you into the dark

*The song is not mine. The characters are not mine. I just made the story up.