In the Arms of the Angel

by OxWiCkEdOnExO

You are in the arms of the angel, fly away from here... You are in the arms of the angel, may you find some comfort here -AU PreDH-

Title:: In the Arms of the Angel

Type:: Songfic

Author:: XoWiCkEdOnEoX

Summary:: It's the end of what should be the Trio's Seventh Year. It's the final battle of the War, and Harry now stands face to face with Lord Voldemort. All of their fates will be decided in that one moment, and at the end of it all the only thing our heroes can do, is lay on the grass… In the arms of their angel.

Disclaimer:: Obviously I do not own "Harry Potter" and//or the song "Angel" by Sarah McLachlan.

Note:: I've never written a songfic before. Please R&R and tell me what you think:o)

He had spent his entire life waiting for this moment.

Voldemort was staring right into Harry's eyes and Harry was returning the glare. His scar burned so badly that it felt as though it were burning through his skull. But Harry continued to look into Voldemort's eyes.

In those eyes he saw his mother and his father's terrified faces, he saw Cedric's lifeless eyes, and he saw hundreds of hundreds of faces staring back at him through Voldemort's eyes, every single one of them filled with fear. Those people had been trying to fight the same battle that he was fighting right now.

Harry knew this was the end. Whether it was to be the end of him or of Voldemort, he was not quite sure but he knew that it would all end tonight.

Tonight he would fight for what his parents, Sirius, Dumbledore, and the Order had been fighting for all those years ago. This was his chance to show the world, to show his parents, to show himself that good would prevail.

He had spent ten years of his life, living in a cupboard under the stairs wishing that his life would mean something more than that. He had spent his days feeling as though he was insignificant to the world, and insignificant to everybody in it.

Then, the fateful day came when Hagrid broke down that door, and gave Harry his letter. That was when he knew that he was meant for something more. The day he learned of Voldemort, of the Prophecy, of the Horcruxes, it was then that he knew he was not insignificant by any means. He would be the one to determine if the world would go on. It was all up to him.

That was a lot to deal with for a seventeen-year-old.

But Harry was ready. Harry had been ready for this day the moment he saw Voldemort rise from that cauldron in the graveyard. The moment the life left Cedric's eyes.

Or maybe he had always been ready, but he hadn't realized it until then.

Now, there was silence. It seemed that every soul around them had turned to stare at the two of them. For a moment, Harry had thought they had all disappeared. But then he saw Ron and Hermione and he knew that he wasn't alone. He knew right then, that so long as they were with him, as long as they were near, he would make it.

He felt his arm rise up into the air and his mouth opened.

But no words came out.

His thoughts were now consumed with one thought, and one thought alone: His parents.

This was all for them. He had lived his life for this moment, the night he could avenge their deaths. He had never been filled with this much emotion before; so much love and so much hate. He didn't need words. Within seconds green sparks shot out of the end of his wand and hit Voldemort square in the chest. He had just been about to raise his own wand.

His body arched backwards and he flew into the air and landed back onto the ground, flat on his back, his wand flying towards Harry. Harry grabbed the wand and held it close to him.

But Voldemort was still moving.

Harry inched towards him slowly. He looked at Voldemort's face and saw a small smirk playing on his lips.

"The last Horcrux has not been destroyed." He whispered weakly. Harry didn't understand. He thought that Hermione, Ron and himself had destroyed the rest of them. What could the last one possibly be?

Then it hit him.

Just as Voldemort's eyes darted quickly to the wands in Harry's arms, Harry realized what it was.

Then, as quickly as Voldemort's eyes had glanced at the wand, Harry took the piece of wood and snapped it across his knee.

Suddenly, the sound of hundreds of screams broke out into the night. Wails of terror and agony filled the battlefield and all around them held their ears. It was a noise that none remaining would ever forget. It was the sound of a thousand deaths.

Harry threw the wretched wood onto the ground and looked back at Voldemort's face. It had contorted to something much more hideous than anything Harry had seen before.

But still, Voldemort had not died.

So Harry tried one more time.

He raised his wand, looked right into his eyes and whispered so low that nobody but Voldemort could hear him.

"Goodbye Tom."

The green sparks shot from his wand once more, going straight at Voldemort's heart. He made no sound, he did not move, his body just went limp and then disappeared into the Earth.

Silence.

A tear slid down Harry's cheek. And in that tear, a thousand memories poured from his soul. Memories of all the nightmares, the daydreams, the visions, the thoughts, the nights, the days, the years of his life wasted on that one man.

One tear turned in to two. Two turned in to three.

And before he knew it, he fell to the ground unable to remain strong, and cried.

Finally, it was done.

Spend all your time waiting for that second chance
For the break that will make it ok
There's always some reason to feel not good enough
And it's hard at the end of the day
I need some distraction oh beautiful release
Memories seep from my veins
They may be empty and weightless and maybe
I'll find some peace tonight

Ron looked back at Harry as he fell to the ground. He was looking at Ron through his tears, his face blank. With a nod from him, Ron began moving towards Harry.

The remaining Deatheaters looked around nervously, not knowing what to do. Most of them began to disapparate but some of them just stared at Harry and the spot where their fallen leader had vanished.

Members of the Order, of the good side, were starting to come to, realizing that although their main enemy was defeated, his followers were still there. They began jinxing them, knocking them out or freezing them. They did not want to kill these people, but they were going to let the Dementor's do so.

As Ron started walking towards Harry he caught Hermione's eye. She looked like she wanted to cry but the tears just wouldn't fall. He couldn't look away from her now. For so long he had wanted to tell her how he felt about her. He had wanted to tell her that he loved her. But he hadn't. He had waited until the very end. Why he had waited so long, he might never know. But he knew that he had to tell her now. There would be no other time.

It seemed as if his world were moving in slow motion. As if Harry was miles and miles away instead of a mere five feet or so. It was as if Hermione were just walking instead of sprinting towards Harry.

His body was heavy and he felt weak. If he could he would just drop to the ground right there and sleep for eternity. His legs were sore from running around, his neck was sore from spinning and dodging spells, and he was pretty sure he sprained his wrist and he had a very deep cut on his arm.

Suddenly, he felt something hit him in the back and he went flying forward. He landed face down in the grass and when he turned around he saw a Deatheater running towards him, their wand in the air. What was he doing? Their leader was dead and this person still dared trying to win?

It must be Malfoy.

Ron raised his wand as well but Malfoy immediately disarmed him. He was standing right over him now. He removed his mask to show who he was and he raised his wand one more time.

But then, just as he began to mutter the words of the spell, his wand flew from his hands and into Hermione's. She stood behind Ron a couple feet away. She stared at Malfoy and raised an eyebrow as if to say "So-What-Are-You-Gonna-Do-Now-Tough-Guy".

As Malfoy stared at Hermione in awe, Ron took that opportunity to gather what remained of his strength and he kicked Draco in the stomach. Draco stumbled backwards and Ron stood up again and walked towards him, every word Draco had ever said to him running through his mind.

If Ron had his way he would kill him with his bare hands then and there.

But why waste his strength on someone as insignificant and as unworthy as Draco Malfoy? It was pointless.

So instead Ron gave him a good punch in the face. He only threw that one punch.

Well, it was more like two or three punches… or eight.

Either way, when Ron was done with him, Draco's nose was bleeding, his eye was black, and he couldn't even speak because his lips were so swollen.

Ron reached over to his right where his wand lay and he froze Draco to the spot.

He then proceeded to continue limping over towards Harry. That last blow had hurt his knees.

When he finally arrived at the spot where Harry lay, Hermione was already sitting on the ground with him. He had his head resting on her shoulder, as she rubbed his back or played with his hair. She looked up when Ron approached but she didn't say a word. All she did was pat her leg invitingly and Ron soon collapsed to the ground next to them, and rested his head on Hermione's lap.

They were together again.

In the arms of an Angel fly away from here
From this dark, cold hotel room, and the endlessness that you fear
You are pulled from the wreckage of your silent reverie
You're in the arms of an Angel; may you find some comfort here

Here they were again. Together, surrounded by hundreds, and yet totally alone. It was different for Hermione, to be the strong one in the trio. She was usually the one needing to be held, or needing to know that she wasn't as alone as she felt. Now there roles had been reversed and she had to hold tight, had to be strong for them.

It seemed a little bit funny that when the world was filled with enemies trying to take control, she was the one who needed a rock but when all of the enemies had been defeated, it was her boys that needed her support. It was her boys that needed to be held, by her.

Yes, her boys.

She had to be there for her boys, just like they had always been there for her. And although a war still raged on around them, although she was terrified that it would never end, Hermione pretended that she was not afraid. Her boys needed her to be strong just like they had always been. She had to be strong when they were weak; she had to help them through this one.

She moved the hand that had been playing in Harry's sweaty hair, done to his chest. She then moved the other hand that had been playing with Ron's sweaty hair, done to his chest. She felt their hearts beating.

They were still alive.

And so was she.

That had been their goal, hadn't it; to survive this Hell?

They had done it.

And that knowledge was enough for her to stay strong. Enough for her to be there… For her boys.

So tired of the straight line, and everywhere you turn
There's vultures and thieves at your back
The storm keeps on twisting, you keep on building the lies
That you make up for all that you lack
It don't make no difference, escaping one last time
It's easier to believe
In this sweet madness, oh this glorious sadness
That brings me to my knees

Ron looked up into Hermione's face. Her eyes were closed as if she were trying to block out all of her surroundings; trying to block everything except for the three of them. Harry had his eyes closed as well and the look on his face was something Ron had not seen in many, many years.

Harry looked content, he looked relaxed, relieved.

And, yet, there were so many other emotions all over his face. He was tired, he was weak, but most of all he was scarred. Scarred from all of the deaths he had seen, all of the fighting he had done. He was scarred because he, himself, had become a murderer.

"No seventeen-year-old should have to go through the kinds of things Harry Potter has gone through" Ron thought to himself.

"Then again," He thought, "Nobody should have to go through the kinds of things any one of us has gone through."

Never in his life would Ron forget this day, or even that day he first arrived at Kings Cross and he saw the Boy-Who-Lived. It was hard to believe that the once eleven-year-old boy had grown into the seventeen-year-old man who now lay next to him, dieing.

Yes, Harry was dieing.

Maybe not physically, but mentally Harry would die soon. There was so little left for him to hang on to, now. All he really had was Ron and Hermione. He didn't even really have Ginny, anymore. Sure, she loved him and he wanted to love her but they all knew that there was no way Harry could give his whole heart to her (mostly because he didn't have one anymore).

His heart had been lost in this war and nothing could bring that back.

And the little bit that remained of that heart belonged to Ron and Hermione.

They were his family, now.

In the arms of an Angel far away from here
From this dark, cold hotel room, and the endlessness that you fear
You are pulled from the wreckage of your silent reverie
In the arms of an Angel; may you find some comfort here

Hermione opened her eyes and looked down at her boys.

Yes, they were still there in her arms.

She bent down and kissed Ron's forehead and she saw a tear fall from his eye.

"I love you, Ron Weasley." She whispered.

A small smile crossed his face. He opened his eyes and looked up into hers. He couldn't find his voice.

"I love you too." He whispered. She nodded as more tears fell down her dirty cheeks. Ron reached up and gently touched her face, wiping away that tear. He then moved his hand behind her neck, and pulled her down closer to him as he sat up a little. He placed his lips on hers and gave her a sweet, swift kiss. When he pulled away he smiled at her and lay back down, and shut hit eyes once more. She placed a finger against Ron's lips, smile, and pulled it away again.

Hermione sat up, and moved her head towards Harry's. She kissed his forehead, as well. Something that once was a smile played on his lips. It was but the mere memory of what his smile used to be, and Hermione knew right then that she would probably never see that real smile again.

"I love you, Harry Potter."

Tears began flowing from her eyes. She would miss the Old him, but she would cherish the New him just the same because the New him was still alive and the New him needed her even more than the Old him did. She would be there for him, too. She would be there for him and Ron. She would forever be there bookworm, their Hermione. She would always be theirs, just as they would always be hers.

Harry opened his eyes and looked into Hermione's. The emeralds hidden in them had already begun to fade, just like his smile. Those eyes had seen so much pain, and so much sorrow. But, then again, they had also seen so much joy, and some of the greatest love ever shown. Those eyes captivated her, just as they captivated the entire world. And despite how faded those eyes were, the light was still there, and his heart was still beating.

He was still alive.

He was still there.

Hermione swallowed, trying to push down the lump in her throat as the tears poured down her face and onto her shirt. If she had her choice, she would never let them go. They were her boys, and she knew that they were safe right there in her arms. She just wanted to keep her boys safe.

She kissed their heads again.

You're in the arms of the Angel; may you find some comfort here.