Angel Without Wings

Angel Without Wings:
A Harry Potter Fanfiction
By: Lady Nocturne Juliet


A/N: Thanks for the reviews. =)

{Chapter 2: No More Lies}



With a gentle thud, the metallic instrument landed in the sink. A crimson river spiraling down the drain. Gashes of memories past lined in crooked patterns, marring Harry's arms. He watched the blood flow. His eyes held no expression but two desolate pools. He had never imagined how cold it would become. All grace and the innocence everyone started out with had fallen so long ago. Peering into the void of his eyes, the wasteland lay hidden behind the windows of his soul. The dust gathered on the stone tomb that held his heart. And as the river of blood flowed down the sink, he died a little more.
There was a sudden knock on the door. "Harry?" Ron's voice came from behind the door.
Harry remained silent. His eyes widened with alert.
"Bloody hell. Are you still in there?" Ron knocked harder this time.
Harry stood frozen for a moment, unsure of what to do. He dug into the pocket of his jacket in search of his wand. "Shit!" He muttered under his breath. How could he have been so idiotic? Without his wand, he could not make the blood stop spilling. Perhaps, if he stayed quiet Ron would leave him alone.
Harry was wrong. Ron was determined not to give up. His timing could not be more convenient. Ron was now banging on the door with persistence. "Come on! 'Mione and I have been waiting for at least a half hour. Everyone's already gone to the village." He yelled outside the oak door.
It finally dawned on Harry that he had made plans to join his best friends in Hogsmeade. Great. Harry felt like the biggest idiot. "Hold on," Harry answered. He ripped the toilet paper to clean his cuts. Hoping blood wouldn't continue to gush out, he slipped his sleeves down. Harry tossed the blood stained paper into the toilet and flushed it down. Running the faucet, he watched the crimson river wash away. He grabbed the razor and stashed it in a safe spot. Taking a deep breath, he prepared himself to face the outside world. Harry finally opened the door to meet Ron's irritated face.
"Well, it's about time!" The red head had his arms crossed firmly over his chest.
"I forgot all about Hogsmeade," Harry admitted.
Ron walked toward the exit.
Harry spotted his wand on his bed. He picked it up and glanced at Ron. "Um, I need another minute." He tried to find an excuse to be alone. Harry needed to properly stop the bleeding on his arm.
Ron whirled around and rolled his eyes. He grabbed him firmly by the arm and pulled him out of the dormitory. "No, you've taken long enough."
Harry thought of pulling away from him and walking back into his room but Ron and Hermione had already thought his behavior was strange. He could not risk making them suspicious. If they really found out about what he really did when he was alone then they would never want to leave him alone or perhaps they would be afraid of him.
Once in Hogsmeade, Harry appeared nonchalant though he felt the blood beginning to trickle down his arm. He inconspicuously pressed the fabric of his sleeve against the sting of the cuts. From the corner of his eye, he felt the brunette girl watching him.
"Harry. Are you okay?" Hermione asked softly. The question Harry hated so much. Curse his luck.
"I'm fine," he snapped.
Hermione knew him all too well. Though no one else noticed his lies, she could. She eyed him, not convinced but decided not to press the subject further.
Ron was busy drooling over a Ravenclaw girl.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Come on, Harry. Let's go to the Three Broomsticks." She led Harry toward the door of Zonko's Joke Shop.
"But what about Ron?" Harry asked.
She let out an exasperated sigh. "He'll come when he's ready." The annoyance was apparant in her voice. She glanced over her shoulder at Ron. "Ron, we're going to be in the Three Broomsticks."
The red headed teen nodded and went back to conversing with his new found crush.
Hermione grabbed Harry by the wrist and led him out of the shop. Her fingers put stinging pressure on his open cuts. The blood seeped through his sleeve.
Harry winced and pulled his arm out of her grasp.
She paused and turned to him. Her eye brow quirked in surprise. She glanced at his arm and noticed a dark liquid mingled with the material of his sleeve. A look of horror crossed her features. "Harry, is that . . . blood?"
He knew it was hard to lie to Hermione but he still did anyway. "I fell and scraped my arm on something," he said quickly.
He had spoken a little too quickly for Hermione's liking. She looked at him with disbelief and seized his arm.
Harry tried to pull away but she had already lifted his sleeve.
Gasping at the horrific sight, Hermione's eyes widened. Deep gashes lined Harry's arm along with old scars that were forever tattooed on his skin. Her eyes tore up. "Harry . . . " She whispered.
He pulled his arm hastily away from her weakened grip. Pulling down on his sleeve, he quickly surveyed the area for anyone who may have noticed the exchange between them. Thankfully no one had been around at the moment. Harry avoided her eyes. He couldn't bear to see what she would think of him. In silence he stood, unsure of his next words. Nothing came to him. Nothing could change what Hermione had seen.
"How long?" Her voice trembled as she spoke. "How long have you been doing this?" Her voice came almost as a whisper.
"I don't want to talk about it," Harry muttered, still doing his best to avoid eye contact. He pushed her aside and started walking away.
The brunette reached for his jacket. "Harry!" She sounded like a helpless girl.
He pulled away from her. "Leave me alone," he snapped. His anger flared. Mostly, he was upset at himself for being so weak.
"Don't walk away from me!" She called from behind. Her voice more faint as he walked toward Hogwarts. A river of tears cascaded down Hermione's soft face. The horror of what she had seen playing over and over in her mind like a broken film. Her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach. Her heart broke for him.


Later that night, Harry sat in a squashy arm chair in front of the fireplace in the common room. Gazing into the dancing flames, his face illuminated by an ember glow. A shadow loomed over him. Apparently, he wasn't the only one in the common room like he thought he was.
"Harry . . . " Hermione's voice broke the silence.
He did not look at her. His gaze locked on the flames that danced fiercely upon the logs in the fireplace. "You told Dumbledore, didn't you?" His voice was cold.
"No . . . " She said softly.
"I suppose you told Ron then?" Harry shuddered at the sound of his own voice. It was colder than it normally was.
"No." Hermione came from behind and settled quietly in an armchair beside Harry. "I didn't tell anyone."
Harry was surprised. A sense of relief rushed through him. There was a long silence. He could feel Hermione's eyes on him. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
"Why didn't you tell me?" She broke the awkward silence.
"Because you worry too much," Harry said impatiently.
"You could have died . . . " Hermione's voice was no louder than a whisper but he could hear her clearly.
"I should have," he muttered.
Tears burned behind her eyelids. They threatened to spill. She could not bear to see Harry this way. "Don't say that," she pleaded.
"Let it slip into my veins. I don't care anymore," Harry exclaimed.
The tears could no longer be restrained as they trickled down her cheeks. Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "I care. Ron cares. His family, Hagrid, Dumbledore--" Hermione retorted.
"That won't stop me," Harry said irritably, cutting her off.
"Doesn't our feelings matter, Harry?" Hermione said in desperation. She tried to reach out to him but he remained in the cold shell he had built around himself. Hermione desperately longed to touch him inside the shell.
Harry turned and looked at her for the first time. Her eyes were tortured. There was also something else in her eyes that he could not put a finger on. The way the light from the fire sparkled in her coffee brown eyes, it cast her face in a delicate glow. He had never noticed how beautiful his best friend really was before. Harry pushed his thoughts away. He couldn't be thinking of his best friend like that and especially not at a time like this. "Look Hermione, nothing you say will change my mind."
"Why?" Her voice broke.
The despair weighed on him. She made him feel like he was a horrible person. "I can't! It won't stop!" The pain he had hidden so well was now visible in his eyes. The long hidden agony he desperately tried to hide for so long shone.
"Harry . . . I understand why you're doing this. So many terrible things have happened to you." Her voice was soothing.
He looked away from her. He heard her stand from her seat and beginning to walk away. "Hermione." He called out to her before she could leave. There was a desperation in his voice.
Hermione froze in her tracks and turned to look at him.
"Stay with me, will you?" Harry's voice was low.
She could not resist his request. He sounded so pitiful. She sat down beside him and turned her gaze to him. "I'll always be here for you, Harry." She said soothingly. Her voice seemed to melt the cold inside Harry. He wanted her to keep talking. Her voice was like an angel's song in his ears. Leaning closer, she placed her hand gently upon his.
"Hermione?"
"Yes?" Her voice was soft and beautiful as a melody.
"I'm sorry I yelled at you earlier." Harry apologized. The shame and guilt washed over him like a black sea ready to drown his senses away.
Hermione gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "Oh Harry, you don't have to apologize."
Harry looked at her. "Yes, I do. You didn't deserve any of it . . . " There was a long pause before he continued. He sighed. "I started . . . ever since S-Sirius died." He turned his gaze back onto the fire, pretending to be fascinated by it. He could not bring himself to look at Hermione. The tears welling in her eyes pricked a soft spot in his heart. If he watched her cry, he would probably start crying as well. "I just . . . I got sick of it. Sick of everything. I'd had enough to last me a lifetime. Enough pain . . . " He trailed off. He couldn't even recognize his own voice. The dark haired boy sounded so vulnerable. He hated to show anyone he was weak and strangely he felt comfortable right now opening himself to Hermione. Perhaps it was because she actually wanted to listen to what he had to say. "I felt like maybe I deserved the punishment. Maybe I asked for it. I started to leave a mark for all the things I could never express . . ." He explained. "The words wouldn't come out even if I wanted them too."
Hermione wiped her swollen eyes. "But why---" She started but was cut off by Harry.
"Because it felt good! I didn't have to think of anything else but the pain I gave myself . . ."
"You don't have to do this," Hermione said. Her voice was trembling.
Harry looked away from her, avoiding her eyes. No more words would come out of his mouth.
"Harry . . . just promise me one thing." Hermione sounded stronger, more confident now.
He looked at her.
Hermione took a deep breath. "Promise me . . . promise that you will come to me whenever you feel that way. Whenever you want to hurt yourself . . . "
"But what if I can't find---" Harry started.
"You have the mauraders map," Hermione interrupted. He opened his mouth to protest but Hermione spoke again. "Please Harry," she pleaded. The tears flowed freely down her face.
Harry grimaced. He could not bear to see her cry, especially when it was all his fault. "All right . . .I promise."
He stood up with his eyes cast to the floor. Sharing this part of himself with anyone was all too new for him. Even though he knew she cared, he couldn't help but feel a little uneasy.
Hermione nearly threw herself at him and wrapped her arms around him. "Harry, I'm so sorry you have to go through all of this," she whispered.
The way her warm breath tickled against his ear brought shivers up his spine. He hesitantly wrapped his arms around her, feeling a little awkward. The sweet scent of her hair filled his nostrils. It was of strawberries and of something else he couldn't quite name but the scent was intoxicating to his senses. Having her breasts pressed against his chest is what made his body start to react. How could a simple hug affect him so much? And by his best friend? She just happened to be a beautiful girl. It didn't help that she had changed since the years before. Her hair was no longer frizzy but fell in silky loose curls. He could feel that her body had definitely developed nicely as well. This was Hermione he was thinking about, he reminded himself.
Hermione closed her eyes and reveled in the feel of his arms around her.
Harry suddenly broke out of her embrace before he could get carried away with his thoughts. Maybe the hug affected him so because Hermione was the first person to ever touch him that way and a hug was all he needed to feel alive. Even when living with the Dursleys he had never been given a hug or any sign of affection. Harry wasn't used to affection at all. Her hugs meant so much to him, he realized. "Thank you, I really needed that . . ." He assured her that he did like her embrace, although his sudden separation showed her different.
Hermione smiled. "Anytime." She started to wipe away her tears but Harry grabbed her arm to stop her.
"I'll do that..." He pressed this thumb to her face, wiping gently at the tears. Her face was like velvet beneath his finger. He felt her shiver at his feathery touch. His hand fell to his side. Harry wasn't sure what had gotten into him. "I'm sorry . . . I just thought since I was the one that made you cry---" He trailed off, feeling awkward. Looking up at her, he saw a smile form on Hermione's lips.
"It's okay." There was a stretching silence between them. "Well . . . let's go to bed."
Her words were innocent enough and yet gave him a few ideas he shouldn't be having. "Yeah . . ." He turned for the boy's dormitories. "So...see you then."
She smiled. "Yeah . . . see you." Then the common room was left deserted.