Chapter 9

Face to Face

Fucking assholes. FUCKING COCKSUCKERS.

Harry threw his things into his suitcase violently, knocking over a lamp. He hated them and everything they stood for. They let her fucking die. Fucking berks. They should go to hell.

He slammed his suitcase shut and zipped it forcefully. He could still hear the screams and cries of his relatives from the other room. They killed her. They're fucking guilty. Let them hang in front of the people, in front of the world. Let their balls be nailed to the wall. Harry laughed manically. Yes, that was the best solution.

"Goodbye, assholes!" he screamed at them as he strode out of the hallway. He was about to go down the stairs when Vernon seized him by the shoulders and forced him up against the wall.

"Listen, you little bastard," he breathed in Harry's face. His face was a worse purple than Harry had ever seen before. "You weren't the only one who loved her, and if you were a fucking man, you'd help bury her. By the lake." He added. His breathing was uneven. It seemed as though he'd rather stop breathing all together.

"Fine." Harry hissed. "Give me a fucking shovel."

Vernon reluctantly let him go, and they went to bury the dead as Dudley sat sobbing in the corner.

------

Draco was just heading out the door when Lucius stopped him.

"Draco." He called. His voice was dripping with contempt. Puzzled, Draco went to his father in the sitting room. He had a fire going even though it was almost eighty degrees outside.

"Father, why do you –"

"Sit down." Lucius interrupted him. Frowning, Draco sat.

Lucius didn't face him, but merely talked as if Draco was in flames, standing in the hearth.

"Where were you last night?"

Draco froze. His stomach seemed to have disappeared. "I was here in bed, Father. Why?"

His father calmly sipped a glass of wine that looked suspiciously like blood. His straw-like blonde hair was swept around his shoulders, and he was wearing leather gloves with green and black robes. "I don't know why you lie to me, Draco. After all, I am your father."

Draco blinked. "I'm not lying."

Lucius reared up, bearing his teeth, and hurled the wine goblet into the fire, causing the flames to climb up the chimney further. "Yes you are! I saw you with Potter! You…" But he lost his nerve; he couldn't say it. Draco suddenly stood up to face his father.

"You talk as if you don't do the same damn thing when Mother is away! You talk as if you don't try to do things to me! Nasty little family secret, isn't it?" Draco choked, winded. Lucius was breathing hard through his nose. His shoulders rose up and down, up and down.

"How dare you." He whispered viciously. "I've done nothing to you!"

Draco's rage got the better of him. He closed his eyes and punched through the glass on the coffee table. It shattered into a million pieces. He looked at his bloody knuckles, which had pieces of glass in them. But he really didn't give a good goddamn.

Lucius made to slap his son, but Draco ducked and got Lucius in the stomach. Lucius grunted, bending over, and eased himself to the ground. This gave Draco an opportunity to run.

He dashed outside and ran up to Harry's porch. He banged on the door repeatedly, but no one answered. Suddenly, someone grabbed his shoulder.

"Gaah!" he yelled, and let out a sigh of relief. "Jesus, Pansy, you scared the hell out of me."

She grinned. "Sorry, I couldn't help myself. What are you doing? And where'd you go last night? I thought we had plans." She slipped her arms around his waist, but he pulled away. She pouted in confusion.

"I just – some things came up." He said, crossing his arms over his chest. The glass in his knuckles stung. "Son of a bitch." He cursed.

"What happened to you hand?" she asked, grabbing it. He pushed her hand away.

"Nothing that's any of your concern." He answered matter-of-factly.

Pansy put her hands on her hips. "Draco, goddamit, why are you doing this to me?"

"Doing….what?"

"Being such a lameass! What's wrong with me? Don't you want me?" she asked quietly, as though she were on the verge of tears, but her eyes looked perfectly dry to Draco. He sighed.

"No, actually. No please go back inside and let me go on doing what I was doing."

"And just what were you doing?"

"Looking for Harry."

"You mean Potter."

"Yeah, that's right."

She stopped. "Was it so long ago that you despised him?"

"Yes, no please shut your stupid, fat mouth and leave me to my business!" he snapped. She looked hurt, but he only half regretted what he had said.

Now she did have tears in her eyes. "Faggot." She whispered, and ran back into the duplex.

Women, Draco thought, and went on looking for Harry.

------

Harry took off his shirt, which was soaked with his sweat. He threw it to the side. The hole was fairly large now, large enough for the body.

That's all it was now. A body. No longer his Aunt.

His eyes stung with tears, but he kept on digging.

"That's fine." Vernon said. He looked as pale as a ghost now, as opposed to the purple hue of his cheeks earlier. Vernon grabbed the body, which was wrapped in a white tablecloth, and handed it to Harry to place in the grave.

It was stiff, horribly stiff. Harry dropped it in shock and disgust, and turned around to heave. All that came up was bile. He spit in the far corner of the grave, and turned around weakly to straighten out the body.

The body.

When he was done, he knealt down and pulled back the tablecloth. He cringed. Harry saw that she was pale like her husband. Her eyes were still open, and he closed them for her. He was shaking, and holding back sobs. He bent over to kiss her forehead. As soon as his lips touched her icy skin, he let go, and the tears rolled down over his cheeks like they had when he first found her.

Still weeping, his climbed his way out of the grave and with his uncle's help, began filling it back up again. When they finished, Uncle Vernon left for the duplex without saying a word, his head hanging. Harry just sat upon the disturbed earth and listened to the dull ringing in his ears.

A gunshot came from the duplex. Harry hung his head.

"Not again. Not another fucking body."

No, he'd had enough. He grabbed his suitcase and made for the road, where he met Draco.

"Harry, I was looking for you –"

Harry held up his hand, and Draco fell silent.

"My aunt and possibly my uncle are dead. I dunno where the hell Dumbledore is, I don't even know if he got my letter. Fuck it, I'm leaving. You're welcome to come with." He spoke in a dead, hollow voice.

"Sorry." Draco cleared his throat awkwardly, looking down at his feet. "But I'll come with you."

"Good." Harry said, and they made for the gate. But a voice stopped them.

"Not so fast, Potter."

Voldemort was there, and all his death eaters stood behind him, including Lucius Malfoy.