Hey guys. I had this idea swimming around in my head for a bit because I just started watching Supernatural. I loved the character Castiel and then I started thinking more and more. I know this is a bit cheesy, but I couldn't erase it from my thoughts. I decided to add Hermione because I think I might write a story to add on to his, but that is a big maybe. So, for now read a little One-Shot with a little Hermione and sweet Castiel. ENJOY!
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Supernatural!
She was cold. Cold, hungry and hurt. Only the young age of seven years old. It was hard for her at that age, but no one cared. She had known for a while that she wasn't loved. That everything she did was a mistake. Speaking too smart got slaps. Staring too long got you kicked. The punches only came when she messed up on her chores or didn't do something correctly. The whippings….. Those were for special nights. Those were for the nights when breath smelled of alcohol and eyes filled with rage. Those were the nights that she really couldn't understand why she was even alive. What was the point? Shouldn't she be playing outside, coloring, or worrying about dolls? Maybe. She didn't though. Instead, she worried about getting cleaning right down to the last detail, how to avoid the raging lunatic and how to not get hurt. It was advanced thinking for a girl her age and she knew that.
After a few more moments of huffing and puffing. She breathed in the clear air that ran through the night. It was calming for her. Her destination? A closed down park. The swings still swung, but they were close to their end. The slide was completely in half, with a heavy tree branch lying between the halves of the slide. The merry-go-round was rusted to a permanent spot. That was all that was there. The community was planning to tear it down, but she couldn't understand why. It was a place that looked to be haunted, but felt completely safe.
She walked in and sat in the middle of the playground with some pain. The wood chips dug into her skin through her loose pajama bottoms and the breeze made her chill. Her only warmth was a thin sweater. She crossed her arms and looked to the starry sky with her dark eyes. The stars twinkled and she smiled. It was actually very calming. That was when the tears began to flow.
She hadn't noticed at first, but more began to fall. More and more tears fell until she finally just let them. Her emotions were not to be seen. She was actually told that showing emotions was what weak people did. She wasn't weak. The crying didn't stop though. She sat there and sobbed. She sobbed for her sore back. She sobbed her her bruised face. She sobbed for her loneliness. She sobbed for her mother to stop hurting her. Most of all, she sobbed for herself. She wanted things to be different, but she knew it was impossible. She would always hurt. She would always leave. She would always lose.
There was flutter beside her. Farther away. She ignored it. Mostly because she couldn't stop the tears. They didn't stop for a while. Not until she heard her name spoken. So softly for such a deep gravely voice. It wasn't scratchy though. It was strong and powerful. She heard him say her name again. "Hermione."
Her tears stopped and she breathed in deep. Her name. She hadn't heard it for a while. No one payed attention to her. The teachers never saw her and adults never looked at her. Her mother only called her 'girl' and the bullies at school called her things like 'buck teeth bushy haired beaver' or just 'freak.' Her father was the last person to call her by her name. Right before he died.
Hermione looked up to the person who called her and watched him carefully. He wore a tan trench coat that was buttoned at the moment. Underneath it you could spot his blue striped tie and white button up shirt. He wore slacks and had a clean appearance. His eyes. His eyes were a blue so bright that they reminded her of the sunny skies. The man stood there. Still. As if waiting for something.
She nodded to him, telling him that he could come closer. So, he slowly approached her. She wasn't afraid. Not one bit. Of course, she knew strangers were bad news, but he was different. He sent off comfort and peace in rolling waves and wore a soft smile that she could tell was genuine. When he reached her, he stood while she sat. Looking up at him made her feel as small as an ant.
Hermione whispered quietly up to the man, "what's your name?" He looked to the ground in front of her and sat down. She was still smaller, but atleast they could look at each other. He answered her, "Castiel." Hermione nodded and looked at her hands. She whispered, "why are you here?" Hermione heard a quiet sigh as he answered, "I am here because you need me to be." She peered at him through her overgrown bangs and asked, "how did you know my name?" The man answered without hesitation, "I am an Angel of the Lord. I have been sent to watch over you."
"Angels don't have wings?"
"We do. It's just that you can not see them."
"I….." She paused. What was she going to say to him? He was sent to watch over her, yet she had been hurting for a while. How could she possibly have an angel watching over her? Hermione looked at him full in the eyes. Her left one was bruised, but that didn't make her stare any less unsettling. She told the angel in the trench coat, "I want to stop hurting."
She could see him stiffen and then look at her closely. He carefully brought his hand up to her face, right above the bruise. Hermione didn't pull away. She knew that he wouldn't hurt her.
The pain that was once there on her eye receded until it was completely gone. He removed his hand and she replaced it with her own. Hermione pressed on her once harmed skin and found it to carry no more pain Even when her back still hurt from her lashings, she felt better. Hermione carefully took the man's hand and he hesitated. "Thank you" she whispered. He squeezed her and whispered back, "you're welcome."
They sat there for a while. Not too extremely long. Just sitting and holding hands comfortingly. She finally stood up and pulled him up as well. She looked back to the entrance of the park and then looked back to the angel. She needed to leave. Sneaking into her house at this time was best because her mother was probably passed out in a drunken heap by then. The angel knelt down inf ront of her and said with caring blue eyes, "It will get better. I promise." She felt tears fall from her eyes. He wiped them away and stood up. After taking a few steps back he said the parting words, "I promise."
He was gone in a sound of fluttering wings and she stared at the spot for a moment. When Hermione turned around to leave it was with a soft smile on her face. She believed him. It would get better. He promised.
