Cover Your Tracks [HS][2014 VERSION]

13. Hurricane

"Crash, crash, burn let it all burn. This hurricane's chasing us all underground . . ."

I look at the front door, freezing when I see my father standing in the doorway. His expression is stern, jaw set tight as he looks between Harry and I, taking in our soaked appearances. I open my mouth to say something, only to clamp it shut when he starts off in the direction of Harry. My eyes widen in horror.

"Dad—"

"What are you doing in my house?" he bellows, coming to a stop in front of Harry. They stand face to face, eyes locked, each of them waiting for the other to do something. Harry looks indifferent as he stands there, refusing to tear his eyes away from my father as he practically fumes in front of him. I would be terrified to be in Harry's position, not calm and collected like he is right now.

"I don't care if there's a damn hurricane outside... there's a place for vermin like you and it's out on the streets, not in my home," my father seethes.

My eyes squeeze shut as my hands ball into fists at my sides. "Stop!" My feet carry me over to them and I stand in between their bodies, catching my father's attention. "It's not Harry's fault. I was stupid, okay? I went outside in the freezing rain and had an asthma attack. And to be quite honest, I would probably still be out there if Harry hadn't been there. He was just trying to help me."

"I won't tolerate criminals in my house, Lyza—"

"Ugh, I'm so sick of hearing you say that! He's a human being just like everyone else. None of us are perfect; we've all made mistakes yet you can't seem to let go of his. He's done terrible things but that doesn't mean that he's a bad person. I'm not going to stand here and watch you treat him like shit just because you're too stubborn to look at him and see who he is rather than what he's done."

My father stills, and the reality of what I did sinks in. I feel Harry's hand tug on my shirt from behind and he whispers quietly, telling me to stop.

"You're choosing that monster over me?" he asks incredulously. I roll my eyes, knowing that everything I just said had completely gone over his head.

"I think it's the other way around," I say, shifting my weight on my feet as I wait for his response.

He stares at me for a few long moments, and then nods passively. "If that's the way you feel, then I guess it won't bother you if I leave." And with that he turns, walking back out the door, slamming it shut behind him. The force of the action rattles the walls of the house and I flinch.

I suppress a groan of frustration as I run my hands through my hair, tugging at the ends. Slowly, I turn to face Harry.

"I'm so sorry," I apologize, shaking my head. "I don't know what's wrong with him."

"You didn't have to step in," Harry cuts. "I could've handled it on my own."

"You were just standing there and taking it. I had to do something," I say with a frown. He stares at me for a few moments before shaking his head. Dark, wet ringlets fall down in his eyes before he runs his fingers through his hair, pushing it back.

My eyes fall down to his wet frame and the clothes that cling to his skin. Goosebumps cover his arms where the cold air nips at his exposed flesh, and he shakes slightly. "Those clothes don't look very comfortable, do you want something to change into? I'm sure my dad has something you can wear."

He looks up at me, a smile playing on his lips. "I don't think he would like that, I probably shouldn't push him anymore than I already have."

"You're gonna get sick walking around in those clothes," I scold, my tone taking on that of a mother. "At least let me dry them for you."