~To Kill You With A Kiss~

Chapter 17

...

"Well, I'd better take off, then..." Draco glanced uncertainly at Harry and Tom. It was dark now, but Harry could make out the faces of his companions in the soft golden light from the street lamp. Draco Malfoy and Tom Riddle. Standing outside Number Four, Privet Drive on a lovely spring evening, talking to Harry Potter. Perhaps this is a dream after all?

Harry shook off the odd feeling of unreality and grabbed Draco firmly by the arm. "Oh no, you are not leaving without us, Malfoy. You can't just dump me here - here, of all places, and just disappear. We are coming back to Malfoy Manor with you."

Draco sighed. "Don't be an idiot, Potter. My aunt fired a killing curse at you, and you want to go back? You are really pushing that "Boy-Who-Lived" thing a little too far, aren't you? Just because you survived the killing curse once doesn't mean you'll do it every bloody time, you moron."

"Draco has a point, Harry." Tom's voice was soft. "The boy has more sense than I thought. It would be the height of folly to go back to Malfoy Manor now, Harry. Better stay here with your family for a while, where you can be safe."

"Safe?" Harry glared at him. "You've never met my aunt and uncle, Tom. I suppose their house is safe, in a manner of speaking, but it's the sort of safety that makes you want to run out and flag down the nearest dementor out of sheer desperation. And besides, I need to talk to Voldemort!"

"But.. but I thought he is the Dark Lord..." Draco gestured vaguely in Tom's direction. "That's what Grandfather said, and the house elf, too. But... No, that can't be right either; they were both there at the same time, he and the Dark Lord. How could they both be there if they are the same person?"

Harry almost felt sorry for Draco. "Yes, I know; it's a little hard to grasp. But if you hadn't been in such a hurry to save my life, you might have noticed that Voldemort - the other one - was talking to me back at Malfoy Manor, not firing killing curses at me like your aunt. And we did not get a chance to finish our conversation."

Tom smiled slightly. "Hm. I do expect that my future self will be very annoyed by... Bellatrix, was it? I wonder why she went against the explicit commands of the Dark Lord? Surely she must know that I will not be pleased."

"Your future self-?" Draco rubbed his hands against his temples. "Okay, now I'm really getting a headache. Why did my crazed aunt fire the killing curse at Harry even though he... you... told her not to? Because she's bloody insane, that's why. Unlike all the other death eaters, she doesn't serve the Dark Lord out of fear; she is actually, well, in love with him, I suppose. Always has been, from the beginning. At least, that's what Mother told me."

"She's in love with me?" Tom made a face. "Merlin help us..."

A ghost of a smile brushed across Draco's pale features. "And I have to admit, Harry, that although I didn't understand what you and the Dark Lord were saying to each other, it sounded rather suggestive. Almost... ahem... erotic, in a strange way. She was probably jealous as all hell. She doesn't want to share the Dark Lord with anybody."

A golden rectangle of light fell over the darkened driveway as the front door of Number Four, Privet Drive opened, and an enormous mustached man peered out into the night. "Hello? Who's there?" Uncle Vernon's voice was gruff, but the moment his glance fell on Draco Malfoy, Harry observed his uncle's pudgy face undergo a singular transformation.

Uncle Vernon gazed at Draco's haughty pale face and expensive clothes with something almost akin to...approval? Respect? Longing? Instead of the fierce growl Harry was expecting, Uncle Vernon emitted a strange unfamiliar sound that sounded almost like a purr. "Yes? How may I help you?"

"Good evening, sir," said Draco pleasantly. "I was merely accompanying Harry and... and..." He looked hesitantly at Tom, as if uncertain how to name him.

Tom stepped forward into the light from the front door. "Good evening, Mr. Dursley. I am Professor Riddle, one of Harry's teachers. I was traveling in this area, so I decided to accompany Harry here myself, so you wouldn't have to go to the trouble of picking him up from the train station, sir. May we come in?"

"Ah." Uncle Vernon studied Tom intently. "You are from... from... that bloody school, are you? A professor, you say?" He blinked rapidly several times. He clearly had no idea what to make of Tom. His glance swept over Tom's handsome features and elegant dark clothes. Apparently, Tom passed muster, for Uncle Vernon said stiffly: "Well, you certainly dress more professionally than the doddering old Santa Claus in a dress who came by here last autumn. Called himself a professor, too, but I had my doubts. I suppose you can come in. Hurry, before the neighbors see you all standing out here. And you, too, of course, my boy." This last part was addressed to Draco; he didn't acknowledge Harry's presence at all. Harry wondered vaguely if he had accidentally put his invisibility cloak on, but he hadn't.

"I don't think I am able come in, sir," said Draco politely.

Harry smiled to himself. Bet you aren't, Draco, not with that Dark Mark on your arm and all the protective spells surrounding this house.

"I should go back home to the Manor before Father sends out a search party." Draco turned to Harry. "Merlin only knows what things will be like back there when I return. If anyone asks, you two disapparated out of there, but I was able to grab hold of you at the last instant and track you here. At least, that is the story I will tell my father. Unfortunately, I was unable to follow you inside once you entered the protected space of your family's dwelling."

Uncle Vernon stared open-mouthed at Draco. Apparently, only a single thing that Draco had just said made any sense to him, for he whispered: "Home? To the... Manor?" He eyed Draco hungrily, as if he were a particularly lucrative contract for drills. "Oh, what's the rush, my dear boy? Won't you come in for a moment? Any friend of my nephew's is of course welcome in our humble home. I'm sure you will enjoy meeting my son Dudley as well. He's always eager to make new friends from - ah - compatible circles."

Uncle Vernon turned to Harry, who was now apparently fully visible to him: "Now, I'm glad to see that you are finally making some nice friends, boy. About time, too! Those red-haired ruffians who came by here in the past-" He shuddered violently at the thought.

"Good-bye, Draco," said Tom firmly. "Give our love to your aunt, if possible. If she is still capable of hearing anything, tell her I will never forget her... er... hospitality. You really should be going. It won't do to keep your parents waiting."

"Draco!" Harry turned to him, desperately. "Tell the Dark Lord that I need to talk to him, please."

Draco nodded briefly and disapparated in a quick flash that left Uncle Vernon reeling in the doorway.

"Tell the Dark Lord? Of course he won't," said Tom under his breath. "We know what a reliable messenger he is."

"Now, that was a nice, civil young gentleman," Uncle Vernon mused to himself, staring at the spot where Draco had been a moment before, "although I really wish he wouldn't do that - that flashy thing in front of the neighbors. Do his parents know that he has fallen in with your lot, I wonder? He might turn out quite decent, that boy, with some firm guidance and some nice normal friends."

He ushered Tom and Harry brusquely into the house. Harry held his breath for a moment as Tom crossed the threshold. If the magic of Malfoy Manor had recognized Tom as Voldemort, surely the spells Dumbledore had cast on Number Four, Privet Drive, would do so as well?

But Tom walked easily into the house. Harry smiled. Perhaps Dumbledore knew that people can change? It wouldn't surprise me if he adjusted the protective spells to allow for the possibility of repentance and transformation. His spells would never let Voldemort in, unless he was no longer Voldemort.

"Who's that, Vernon?" Aunt Petunia appeared in the hallway, wearing a crisp starched apron over her dress. "Oh. Oh, dear." She stared at Harry as if he were a particularly nasty stain on her snow-white marble counter tops. "It's you."

"Afraid so." Harry could feel the familiar dull grey hopelessness seep into him as he glanced around the Dursleys' impeccable entryway. The wooden floors were polished to a soft glow, and a scent of soap lingered in the air. Framed botanical prints showing cross-sections of delicate flowers, dissected for the viewer's edification, adorned the flawless white walls. Three coats hung neatly on hooks by the door, and three pairs of shoes waited in a tidy row on the floor. And there, underneath the elegant staircase, was a small door, leading into a dark, cramped cupboard. That's where the Dursleys stowed away anything that could mar the perfection of their pretty, suburban home. Like him. Harry shivered. Suddenly, he felt as if he were five years old again and afraid of the dark.

Tom followed his glance. "That?" He stared at the little door, aghast. "That is the cupboard where you spent your childhood? But that's not possible, Harry; it's so small. No human being could live in there." He walked over to the cupboard and flung the door open.

"Hey! What are you doing, boy? This is my home; you can't just walk in here and-" Uncle Vernon's voice trailed off as he caught sight of Tom's wand. It seemed to have materialized out of nowhere, and it was pointed at Uncle Vernon's face.

"I will call the police." Aunt Petunia's voice was a whisper. "I will let them know that there is an intruder."

Tom turned his wand slowly to her, and she gave a little gasp and took a few quick steps backwards.

"Do not point that... that thing at my wife!" Uncle Vernon had found his voice again now, and it was growing in volume. "I will not tolerate any of your sick, unnatural hocus pocus in my home, do you hear? I should never have let you in; I was fooled by your polished appearance for a minute. Get out of my house this instant, or I will call the cops on you!"

Tom ignored him and peered into the small, dark cupboard. "Oh, Merlin, Harry. They kept you in here? This isn't even large enough to be a prison cell. I thought the orphanage I grew up in was bad, but this-"

He turned around and met Harry's glance. Tom's face was pale now, but his mouth was set in a thin, determined line. He pointed his wand at the cupboard.

"Confringo!"

The small, white door was blasted off his hinges, and the force of the explosion tore the cupboard to shreds in mere seconds, and half the staircase as well. Tiny splinters of wood and clouds of fine dust flew through the entryway and descended on the polished wood floor like newly fallen snow. Aunt Petunia screamed and pressed herself against the wall. Uncle Vernon stood frozen for a moment, staring at Tom. Then he whispered: "You... you will pay for this. I know you are not supposed to do you-know-what outside of school; they'll have you hauled off to jail for this, just like they should have done to my nephew years ago."

Tom stared at him in disbelief for a moment before he burst out laughing. "No magic outside school? I'm not a Hogwarts student, you dim-witted Muggle. Hauled off to jail? Oh, yes, I can imagine the headlines: Lord Voldemort Finally Apprehended. Charged With Performing Magic Outside School."

"V-V-Vol-?" Uncle Vernon's normally ruddy face was deathly white now.

Tom nodded serenely. "Precisely. I am pleased to see that you know of my reputation. I am a powerful wizard, and I will do magic wherever and whenever I see fit. Normally, wizards do not perform magic in front of Muggles, but if there are no witnesses left-" He raised his wand.

"Tom!" Harry reached out and put his hand on Tom's arm. "Please. You can't kill my relatives."

Tom raised an eyebrow. "Why on earth not, Harry? It wouldn't be murder really, just delayed vigilante justice. It wouldn't splinter my soul even one little bit, I can assure you."

"No, Tom!"

Uncle Vernon was on his knees on the floor now, whimpering. "Please listen to the boy," he moaned. "Don't hurt us! We are the only family he's got. He needs us."

Tom glared at him. "The only family he's got? You kept him locked up in a tiny closet for most of his childhood, for Merlin's sake. You starved him and treated him worse than a slave. And you dare tell me that he needs you? Well, here's what you need, Muggle." He raised his wand again. "Cruc-"

"No!" Harry reached for Tom's wand. "Tom, I forbid you to curse my relatives."

Tom held the wand out of Harry's reach. "Oh, come on! Now you are being downright unreasonable, my love. The Cruciatus curse won't cause them any permanent harm, Harry, you know that. It will just be a little lesson they won't forget in a hurry."

"No."

Tom shook his head and sighed. "You really are the most stubborn, impossible creature I have ever met, my dear. But if you insist... Here. Hold my wand." He handed his wand to Harry and walked over to Uncle Vernon's cowering form. "Look at me! Look at me, you worm! This is for the years Harry spent in that cupboard."

He punched Uncle Vernon in the face, hard.

"Owww!" Uncle Vernon howled in pain and hid his face in his hands. Blood seeped out through his chubby fingers, and Aunt Petunia stared at him in horror.

"Vernon! Oh, my God, you are bleeding!" She gave a strangled little sob.

"And here's for the starvation, and here's for the beatings." Tom delivered two more blows in rapid succession.

Uncle Vernon sank to the floor, wailing. Harry gazed at him in amazement. Why didn't Uncle Vernon get up and fight back? He had certainly dispensed more than his share of blows over the years, but perhaps this was the first time he found himself on the receiving end? Perhaps all bullies really were cowards?

"And as for you..." Tom turned and looked at Aunt Petunia, who was staring at him with large, horrified eyes. "It's as much your fault as his. But I'm not going to hit a woman, and Harry, for some reason entirely unclear to me, does not wish me to use the Cruciatus curse on you." He gave Aunt Petunia a long, lingering glance. Then a slow smile spread over his handsome face. "So I suppose there is only one thing left that I can do to teach you a lesson."

"What?" Aunt Petunia was shaking now, and her voice was almost inaudible.

"I can tell your husband your secret," said Tom softly.

Aunt Petunia was whiter than her spotless walls. "My... secret? What do you mean? I have no secret."

"Don't you? I am not a bad legilimens, Mrs. Dursley. That means that I can read minds." Tom's voice was gentle.

Aunt Petunia opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Harry looked at her with interest. Aunt Petunia had a secret? For the life of him, he couldn't imagine what Aunt Petunia had to hide - except, of course, him. Had she swept dust under the carpet? Failed to iron Dudley's underwear? Imported illegal cleaning solutions?

"It appears, Harry," said Tom, his silver eyes glittering, "that you are not the only one in this household who has the ability to do magic. Your aunt is a witch."

"What?' Harry stared at Aunt Petunia. "No way. You can't be serious, Tom."

"Petunia?" Uncle Vernon's voice was a hoarse whisper. "What is he talking about?"

Aunt Petunia just looked fixedly straight ahead and shook her head. She looked as if she was in shock.

"Petunia! Answer me!" There was a note of panic in Uncle Vernon's voice now. "Tell me it's not true, what he's saying!"

Aunt Petunia hid her face in her hands. "I've tried so hard to make it stop," she whispered, "but it always comes back..."

"You are a witch?" Harry stared at his aunt as if he had never seen her before in his life. "But... But you didn't even go to Hogwarts. You didn't get a letter, like my mother. You are a Muggle!"

"That's what I thought." Aunt Petunia whispered, her face ashen. "I was normal, unlike my sister. I was almost a little jealous of her in the beginning, when our parents went on and on about her wondrous abilities, but I soon realized that I was so much better off, being normal instead of some sort of deviant, like she was. And when my sister died and we were forced to... to take him in -" she nodded curtly in Harry's direction - "well, I was so terribly grateful that my own child was not abnormal like he was. We've had such a nice, harmonious life all these years, except of course for the dreadful summers, when he came back from that horrible school. But apart from him, everything was so perfect. Vernon has been so successful in his career, we have a lovely home, and little Dudley is such a sweet boy. Everything was flawless, but then... things began to happen..." She swallowed. "In the beginning, I thought I was hallucinating. It began with flowers. Tiny ones at first. They showed up all over my beautiful kitchen counters, just moments after I had cleaned. Not pretty bouquets in vases, either, just untidy heaps of wildflowers, popping out all over my kitchen, appearing out of nowhere. As if it were some sort of ma...mag... Oh, I can't even say it! And then one day, when I was looking out the window at Mrs. Next Door walking down the driveway, preening in her new pink dress, thinking she was so pretty, I thought of her covered in grape juice stains, and then suddenly, she was. And the neighbors' shiny new convertible... I didn't mean for them to have that accident; it's just that they were so terribly annoying the way they always waved at us when they were going by..."

"Petunia! What are you saying?" Uncle Vernon's voice was hoarse. "You don't mean that you are one of them, too? You are my wife, for heaven's sake! I simply cannot allow this!"

Aunt Petunia covered her face with her hands and sobbed loudly.

"Hey!" Dudley's round face appeared at the top of the shattered staircase. "Can you keep it down? I can't hear the TV!"

"Careful on the stairs, Duddikins," whispered Aunt Petunia. "They are a little broken right now."

Dudley stared into the abyss in front of his feet, a baffled expression on his face. "But... But how will I get to the kitchen now? I'm hungry."

"Don't worry, Dudders," croaked his father. "We'll get some food up to you in a minute. Just go back to your room for now, that's a good boy."

"Hello, Dudley!" said Tom pleasantly. "You must be Harry's cousin."

"Oh. Hello." Dudley leaned forward a little more. "You are back, are you, Harry? I say, throw me some food up here, will you? I'm starving. Oh, is that the door bell? Did you order pizza, Mum?"

"Don't open that-" said Uncle Vernon weakly, but Aunt Petunia had already dried her tears, straightened her apron and walked to the door, presumably out of sheer force of habit. She opened the door a tiny crack and peered outside.

"Hello!" said a cheerful voice outside. "Oh dear, what a mess! Are you redecorating? We have come for Harry Potter."

"Don't let them in!" hissed Uncle Vernon, but the two visitors had already stepped into the hallway.

"Ginny? Alphard? What are you doing here?" Harry blinked in surprise.

"Giving you a ride back," said Ginny, smiling. "It wasn't easy to find you, but Draco was unexpectedly helpful. Hm. By the looks of things, I would say that you have already overstayed your welcome here. Shall we?"

"Wait! Who is she?" Dudley was staring at Ginny, his mouth open.

Harry sighed. "Dudley, this is Ginny, my ex-girlfriend. Ginny, this is my cousin Dudley, and my aunt and uncle."

"You dated her? Seriously?" Dudley didn't seem able to tear his glance away from Ginny's flaming hair. "But she dumped you, of course. Is she seeing anyone now?"

"Yes I am, Dudley." It was Ginny who answered. "This is my boyfriend, Alphard Black."

"Pleased to meet you," said Alphard gravely.

"Wait a minute!" Uncle Vernon staggered to his feet, wiping blood off his face with his sleeve. "Black you say? You are not related to that crazed mass-murderer Sirius Black, are you?"

Harry wouldn't have thought that Alphard had it in him. The quiet Slytherin boy had always struck him as rather shy and reserved, not all all the type who would knock a large man like Uncle Vernon down with a single blow. And yet, Uncle Vernon was lying in a crumpled heap on the floor before Harry had time to blink, a fresh stream of blood oozing from his plump nose.

"Don't you dare speak of Sirius that way, you- you-"

"Nice right cross, Alphard!" said Ginny admiringly. "Oh, did you break his nose?"

"No, I think that was me," said Tom lightly. "I got a head start."

Dudley leaned over the banister, frowning. "Now, wait, who's he again?"

Harry smiled. "This is Tom, Dudley. My boyfriend."

"Your what?" Aunt Petunia let out a horrified whisper.

"Aha! Well, that explains a lot!" muttered Uncle Vernon. "It all makes sense now. I wouldn't be surprised if all this unnatural behavior is connected somehow. One thing leading to another, no doubt. HEY! You stay away from Dudley, you hear! I don't want any of you abnormal people anywhere near him, do you hear me! I don't want any of that rubbing off on my boy!"

Harry caught Ginny's glance, and they both began laughing helplessly.

"I think we'd better go." Alphard gestured towards the door.

"Hey, Ginny!" Dudley's head showed up over the railing again. "If it doesn't work out with your boyfriend, send me an email, okay?"

"Okay, Dudley." Ginny flashed him her most charming smile, and the four of them headed out into the night. The door closed behind them, and they stood in silence for a minute, breathing in the cool night air.

"Ginny?" Alphard reached for her hand. "What's an email?"

Ginny kissed him softly on the lips. "I have no idea. Some sort of letter, I suppose."

Voices drifted out to them though an open window in Number Four, Privet Drive.

"Petunia, I demand an explanation! What if you have passed this... this horrible aberration on to poor Dudders?"

"Keep your voice down, Vernon; what will the neighbors think?"

"I DON'T CARE WHAT THE NEIGHBORS THINK!"

Harry squeezed Tom's hand and smiled to himself.