Fallen Angels

Chapter 6

Hermione screamed. She could feel blood rolling down her back and onto the carpet beneath her. The sopping wetness was soaking her whole body. She felt as though her insides were being torn through her shoulder blades. Then, the pain stopped and she sighed gratefully as the blackness of the night overtook her mind.

Draco looked at the beautiful creature before him. From what he could tell Hermione was an angelus or an angel. She had pure white wings as long as her body and they were folded around her protectively. That combined with the lightening of her skin, her black straight hair, and her bright green eyes that radiated beauty, told him everything that he needed to know. It also explained many of his own questions.

There were two angelus know to wizard kind. And although they went by many different names in different languages, their Christian names were Gabrielle and Michael, their names in Hebrew were Marut and Harut. The two angelus were known in myth and history to have given magic to human kind. Thereby creating the wizarding race. In some small excerpts in ancients books from Babel there were references to Harut and Marut calling them incarnations of the devil. Saying that to practice magic was to worship the devil because those that had given it to them were demons. It also gave two sentences describing them. Harut with skin and hair of sun and wings of blackest night. Marut his opposite in everyway with eyes that shined with the knowledge of eternity. There was not much known to anyone about the two angelus, only that they appeared in times of dire need in the world and would fade again to walk the planet until great tribulation pulled them into vibrant life once more.

Draco was scared for himself because all of the strange events that had happened over the past 48 hours were now brought into stark clarity. He was an angelus, the reason for the crystal and why he had collapsed at the sight of Hermione were now unbelievable transparent. He was Michael, Harut, the dark one. She was Gabrielle, Marut, his opposite, a daughter of the sun and a bride of the night. There were each other and yet they were not. They were the outcast ones, the fallen. And unless he was very much mistaken he would be in a lot of pain sometime very soon.

It felt odd to know that he would be experiencing the same change as the one who lay before him. He wondered if he would still be Draco or if he would be Harut or whose memories he would have or what it would feel like when he changed. All of these thoughts drifted across his mind as he found himself playing with the black silken strands in front of him. He watched the little crystal on the floor and found himself thinking about where it had come from. A piece of heaven given to them when they had fallen to always remind them from whence they had come and to whence they could never return. Eternal sweetness, pain, and desire all captured in driving force that would bring about his own change.

He thought back to when it had arrived to him in his bedroom and the handwriting on that strange note. He wondered who had sent it and who knew who they were. The Angelus only came awake when change needed to be wrought on planet earth, otherwise they simply would not awaken, no matter the stimuli provided. If they were not necessary then the crystal was simply a rock. It was only a catalyst. It was not the thing that brought about the change itself. The need in the world did that, not they. Draco was surprised that he knew all this and wondered where the knowledge had come from.

He found himself rubbing his hands along Hermione’s shoulders and grazing her wings with his fingers. He laced some of the feathers in between his digits and drank their pureness into his soul. All of his thoughts were focused upon Hermione. He couldn’t tear his gaze from her.

Then he felt the warmth. It crept into his veins, sneakily between his breaths. One moment it wasn’t there and then the next he was filled with an icy fire, a need to claim what was his. He pulled Hermione onto his lap and held her, cradling her and putting his face in the crook between her neck and her shoulder. He hugged her and whimpered as he felt his wings rip free from his back. It hurt like hell and he knew that he was squeezing Hermione rather hard because of it. He missed his mother in that instant and warmly recalled the way that she had held him as an infant. Then the pain was subsiding washing away in waves, but he still remembered being in his mothers arms and suckling at her breast when he was small. He cried and wanted that warmth again. Then he was in her womb. The comfort of the surrounding flesh and her heartbeat lulled him slowly to sleep.

***

Harry and Ron waited for Hermione to come back as the other students left the train. When everyone else was gone and she still hadn’t appeared they decided it was time to go and look for her. They ambled along the corridor calling her name, but she didn’t respond. They decided that they should better go and check the heads compartment just to make sure that she wasn’t there. They arrived at the door to the heads compartment and knocked loudly, when no one answered they looked at one another and shrugged. Ron asked, “Where is Hermione?” and to both of their surprise the door answered. “Hermione Granger in inside of this compartment and both she and Mr. Malfoy are in grave peril. I am just a door and unfortunately cannot alert anyone to this please send word to Albus Dumbledore and the castle immediately. Tell him that the Angelus have risen again.” Harry and Ron both gaped at each other with mouths wide enough to make goldfish jealous. They didn’t waste anytime in wondering why the fuck ferret face was headboy, ok well maybe a moment, and raced out of the car and up to the castle completely forgetting about Hedwig who was safely nestled in their compartment with Pidwidgeon and Crookshanks.

“Why the fuck is Ferret Face head boy?”