A/N: Many thanks to Ahyanah and John for taking the time to leave a review! I hope you like this chapter. There will be another posted by the end of the week.

Chapter 3: Perpetrator

She stood in front of the mirror and screwed up her face in disgust. She wrapped her arms around her chest and winced at her own image. "I feel so dirty." She turned to Harry. "Can I use your shower?"

Harry's chin dropped slightly. "Sh- shower?"

She nodded. "Please?"

"Er, okay." It wasn't a bad idea. She had blood splattered all over her.

He motioned for her to stay as he got up to check that his family were still asleep. As usual, they were sleeping soundly. Harry administered a generous dose of the sleeping potion to each of them, just in case.

He then quietly led Jade through the dark hallway into the bathroom. "Okay, just be very, very quiet. I'll wait for you in my room."

Her breath caught in her throat. "Harry?" she looked almost desperate. "Would you stay?"

Harry's stomach filled with butterflies. "Wh.. What?"

"Please? I don't want to be alone." She added, "I trust you not to look."

Harry felt slightly annoyed by this but promised to stay.

He sat down on the commode while she slipped into the shower and shut the opaque curtain. In less than a minute, a hand emerged from behind the curtain to drop a bundle of clothes on the floor. He heard water rushing from the spigot.

Soon images began forming in his head. He imagined he could see her, standing behind the maroon-colored, plastic liner, naked underneath the spray of water... letting it hit her smooth but supple lips... and trickle down her soft neck... curving down the small of her back towards her -

She coughed, jolting Harry out of his daydream.

He contemplated asking her if she was all right but thought better of it. With the thoughts going through his mind, he didn't trust the words that would come out of his mouth.

How am I supposed to do this? he thought angrily. How does she expect me to think clearly when she takes a shower in front of me?

He shook his head trying to shake the mental picture of her as he pondered what he was going to do. Had he just entered into the territory of aiding and abetting a murderer?

Harry had aided a convicted murderer before. He had helped his Godfather escape the Dementors in his third year at Hogwarts. But he'd always had a clear conscience as far as Sirius was concerned because he knew Sirius was innocent.

Jade was not. She had murdered her father. Considering the state she was in and all the blood, there was no question of it. Yet, here he was, letting her use his shower to get cleaned up. To wash away the blood. To wash away the evidence.

Once again, the image of her formed in his mind. Her long, sleek hair... wet glistening body... running a sudsy washcloth across her perfectly smooth skin...

No! Harry desperately shook the thoughts from his head. Keep it together, Harry! he scolded himself.

She's trying to manipulate you. She's doing this on purpose to drive you crazy! He laughed to himself, she must want the company. She's obviously completely nutters. She's twisted. Just like her father. Harry shuddered. What made her do this?

He looked over to the pile of bloodstained clothes on the floor.

He didn't feel sorry for him. He knew it was wrong but he didn't feel sad for Bernard Charles Nott. He had been a loyal servant to Voldemort and had undoubtedly hurt people. But death was so... final. So absolute. There was no going back. No possibility for redemption.

The water stopped. As if suddenly reminded of the presence of a naked, wet girl in the room with him, he sprung to his feet ready for whatever might happen next.

"Harry? Are you still here?" she whispered.

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat. "Yeah."

"Could you get me a towel?"

Harry let out his breath, not realizing he had been holding it in. "Right. A towel," he muttered.

He looked around the room for a towel. All he found were the decorative towels his Aunt Petunia always had neatly displayed on the rack, folded so the maroon floral patterns were perfectly aligned. He had always thought of them as purely decorative; he and Dudley were forbidden to touch them. But they were just towels. He grabbed one and handed it over the top of the curtain to the unseen naked girl on the other side.

"Um... Harry?"

"Yes?" Harry tried to keep his stomach calm.

"Do you... Do you have a bigger towel?"

Harry looked at the perfectly matched set of towels remaining on the rack. There were two large bath towels and one small hand towel. He had given her one of the small towels by mistake.

"Oh! I'm sorry!" He quickly grabbed the large bath towel and handed it over to her.

"Thanks," she said quietly.

Within seconds, she had pulled back the curtain and stepped out of the shower, clad in the bath towel, which was tightly wrapped around her. Her hair was still very wet and dripping but she didn't seem to notice. Her eyes were red and puffy.

She glared at him as she handed him the small towel. "This wouldn't even cover up one of my birthmarks." There was none of the usual flirtatiousness in her voice; instead it was bitter. "But that was the whole idea, wasn't it?" Her words hit Harry like a sucker punch.

"No, it wasn't like that," he said. "I just grabbed the nearest one and didn't even look at it. I'm sorry."

The sincerity in his voice melted her icy expression. Suddenly, it looked like she might cry. "Oh no, I'm sorry, Harry. You've been so good to me. You didn't deserve that." She looked down uncomfortably.

Harry had never seen her like this. Self-conscious and ashamed.

"I should have got you some clothes to change into," he said apologetically. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."

She didn't look up.

"We should get back to my room."

Harry walked over to the door and checked the hallway for any stirrings from his family. Amazingly, they seemed to be sleeping soundly as ever. The house was perfectly quiet except for the soft snoring coming from Dudley's room.

"Come on," he whispered. "The coast is clear."

He picked up her clothes and led her back to his bedroom, quietly shutting the door behind him. He turned to see her standing in the middle of the room, hair still dripping, towel wrapped tightly around her. She was staring at the floor lost in thought.

Harry shifted slightly. "Um, I'll find something for you to put on."

He went over to his dresser and started digging through his clothes for anything that might fit her. He finally found an old pair of frayed khaki shorts and a t-shirt. "These might fit," he said handing them to her.

She took them and before Harry could turn his back, she pulled the shirt over her head and then let the towel fall to her feet. The shirt was an old camp shirt of Dudley's which had a picture of a beaver on the front and it fell easily to her knees. Without a word, she put the shorts on underneath the shirt. Harry stood rooted, staring at her, well aware of the fact that he should have turned around, but she didn't seem to notice or care. She simply crawled into his bed and wrapped the blankets around her shivering body.

Harry wiped his sweaty palms on his pants and slowly walked over to her. Her hazel eyes were open but they looked empty.

"Are you cold?" he asked as he pulled the duvet over her. Her shivering subsided a bit as he lay down next to her.

"Jade?" he said softly.

She stared straight ahead and didn't say anything.

"Why did you do it?"

Silence.

"Did he...hurt you?"

More silence.

"Because..." Harry continued cautiously. "If he did, maybe you could claim it was self defense."

She lifted her head slightly and her eyes flashed angrily at Harry. "He would never hurt me. He loved me. He always told me so." She rested her head back on the pillow. "I was everything to him. And I let him down."

Suddenly her face screwed up and tears streamed down her cheek. Harry awkwardly put his arm around her shoulder.

She continued to talk through her sobs. "I didn't want to go. I know he would have made me." She pressed her wet face into the pillow. "I told him I was afraid of You-Know-Who. I said that I didn't want to be one of his... minions or whatever you call them. I won't be one of his minions! Do you know what he did? He laughed. He laughed, and said I'll get over it. Stop being silly, Bernie."

"He was going to take you to Voldemort?"

She looked into Harry's eyes searchingly. "What did... what does he look like?"

Harry shifted his gaze to a spot on the wall. "Horrible," he whispered.

"I heard he has red, slanted eyes and," she swallowed, "long fingers."

Harry nodded, not wanting to give any more description than necessary.

She closed her eyes and shivered again. "I'm never going back."

Harry took a deep breath. "Jade," he began cautiously, "The thing is... if it was self-defense... they might be easier on you."

Her eyes finally met his.

"What are you talking about, Harry?"

"I mean...maybe they won't send you to Azkaban. You're young. They may have more sympathy for you..."

"Sympathy? Ha!" she snarled.

"Yes - and if you turn yourself in... that would be even better."

She let out a hollow laugh. "I'm not going to Azkaban," she said slowly. "If they catch me, I'll be going someplace much, much worse."

Harry stared at her waiting for her to continue. "Where?" When she didn't answer right away, he added, "I didn't know there was another place the Ministry sends mur... uh, people."

"The Ministry?" she said angrily. "I'm not talking about the Ministry, Harry. Do you honestly think the You-Know-Who would let me get away with killing one of his servants? Oh no. He'd never let me get sent to Azkaban. He'd want to deal with me himself."

Harry realized she was probably right.

Her features softened. "Do you think I'm sexy, Harry?"

Taken aback by the question, Harry involuntarily took in her puffy, bloodshot eyes and blotchy, makeup-free cheeks.

She asked again in a flat, emotionless voice, "Do you want me?"

Harry was suddenly very aware of the fact that they were cramped together in a single bed, lying quite horizontal. "Why are you asking me that?" he said.

She stared at him coldly. "My father always said it was all I was good for."

Harry gaped at her, feeling very uncomfortable.

"My magic has never been too hot. I barely passed potions last year. He said I'm too stupid to get anywhere in life unless I use the few assets I was born with. He said he could tell I wanted it. But, you know what? I didn't. I didn't want it." Anger resonated in her voice. "I didn't want it with him or any of his stupid friends. And I hope they all go to hell."

"I'm sure they will," was all Harry could think to say.

"And I don't think that's all I'm good for. Tonight, I told him so. He was lying in the bed, staring up at the ceiling. He was coughing up blood, at that point. I told him." She paused to lick her dry lips. "I told him that I don't think that's all I'm good for."

Harry took a breath, and said softly. "That's not all your good for."

"No. I'm also good at murder." She smiled. "The Dark Lord would like that, too. How ironic. I suppose I'm Death Eater material, after all."

"No, you're not Death Eater material," Harry said a bit louder than he meant. "You don't have to be. You have options."

Jade tutted. "What options?"

Harry thought for moment. "What about your Mother?"

Her body slumped as she let out a defeated laugh. "She'd hand me over to them in a second. She's jealous of me."

Harry was incredulous. "Your own mother would hand you over to the Death Eaters?"

"In a second," she whispered.

"What are you going to do?"

She slowly closed her eyes.

"Jade? I'm sorry but you can't stay here. I know some people who may be able to -"

"I'm so tired, Harry. Can't I just sleep for a little while?"

"But..." Harry desperately tried to think up another arrangement.

"Please? I'm so tired," she whispered.

Harry took a deep breath. He brushed a strand of hair away from her cheek. She seemed so peaceful. "For just a little while, all right?"

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