I gulped when I watched the front door close behind him.
"Now you've really done it," said a voice beside me.
I let out a bloodcurdling scream and whipped around to face the window.
"W- wha- wh- who the hell are you?"
"Let's just say I'm a friend of Harry's," he grinned. He had a full set of pearly whites, they shone bright, despite the blinding darkness outside.
"I find that hard to believe,"
"So now you don't trust me? Tsk tsk, what a shame," he opened his mouth to say more but I spoke first.
"Why are you here? What do you want?" I bombarded him with questions.
"I've been here the whole time, sugar. I live here," My heart stopped when he said that. Either he was with the men in the alley, or he really was with Harry and Harry just saved me to get me inside his house. Alone. With them.
"And I've been dying to get my hands on you," He went on, reaching out for me. His hand brushed across my cheek before I threw the door open, hitting him and literally jumped out, running for my life. Again.
I burst into the house, slamming the door with a bang.
"Finally decided to join me, I see," I could hear the smirk plastered on his face.
"Where are you?" I asked. I was scared, but the anger was taking over.
"In the bathroom," He answered.
"Much help you are," I muttered walking through the rooms looking for the bathroom.
I finally found him at the end of the short hall.
I was about to give him hell for knowing the man outside when I saw the blood.
"It's fine, just a graze," He said quietly.
"Harry, you got shot," I walked over to him where he was standing in front of the sink looking for something in the cabinet.
"It's fine," He said again.
I opened the only cupboard in the room and found a small washcloth. As I was wetting it down, his eyes met mine in the mirror.
I swallowed and looked away.
"Sit," I nodded towards the counter.
He hardly had to use his arms to get up, being as he was so tall.
I suddenly realized that he was actually shirtless and I was about to touch him. My cheeks turned pink and I thanked the lords for the dim lighting in the room.
I carefully dabbed at his wound. He winced.
"Sorry," I whispered.
"It's fine," He said through his teeth.
"You should probably go to the hospital," I said after a few moments of silence.
"What, for a scrape?" he scoffed, "Right,"
I looked up at him.
"No, for getting shot. What if it gets infected?"
"I'll cross that bridge when the times comes. As for now," he hopped off the counter, grabbing his dirty shirt in his hand, "why don't we get some shut eye?"
He brushed past me, walking out of the small bathroom.
"I will, when I get home."
He stopped walking, me almost bumping into him. We were in the narrow hallway now. He slowly turned to face me. Anger clear on his face.
"How many times do I have to tell you? I'm not taking you home tonight! Jesus fucking Christ. It's not safe!" He threw his hands up in the air. I cowered away from him as he yelled but I did not look away from him. When he was done, he was breathing heavy, staring at me.
It was silent, neither of us speaking. Standing and staring.
I crossed my arm, putting my weight onto one leg, raising my eyebrow at him.
"What?" he finally asked.
"Are you done?"
"Yeah," he said, sounding exasperated.
"Good, so can you move out of my way then?"
He narrowed his eyes at me but moved out of the way.
I walked past him, keeping my arms crossed. I marched straight for the front door.
"Where do you think you're going?" He called after me.
I swung the door open, stepping outside, my hand on the knob.
I didn't look at him coming towards me, I just turned my head to the side so he could see my face when I spoke.