HP Song Fic, Concrete Angel
She walks to school with the lunch she packed
Nobody knows what she's holding back.
Wearing the same dress she wore yesterday
She hides the bruises with the linen and lace.
Harry sighed as he slowly got out of the car at Kings Cross Station for his 6th year at Hogwarts. He was still wearing the same clothes, still dressed in the same long sleeved shirt and baggy pants, that successfully hid the bruises and welts on his body. It would be a month or two before he could wear short sleeves, before his injuries healed, but no one would notice. He knew that from experience.
The teacher wonders but she doesn't ask.
It's hard to see the pain behind the mask.
Professor Snape could see that the Potter boy was in pain. He winced when he sat, or moved. And there! The boy's sleeve had slid up, and marking the pale skin was a dark bruise in the shape of a hand. Potter was good at hiding it, Severus couldn't deny that. But Snape wasn't a spy for nothing, he knew how to read the emotions behind a mask of indifference. He would ask Potter, but the boy hated him, and wouldn't speak to him, so it was futile to ask him. He was at Hogwarts, he would be safe for now. Time passed, and the memory of Potter's marred skin slipped his mind.
Bearing the burden of a secret storm.
Sometimes she wishes she was never born.
It was after midnight when the other boys finally went to bed, so Harry could take a shower. The stripes across his back throbbed, and the sixteen-year-old wished, not for the first time, and not for the last, that he had never been born, that he never had had to go to the Dursleys, never have to go through what he lived with.
But through the wind and the rain
She stands hard as a stone
In a world that she can't rise above
But her dreams gives her wings,
And she flies to a places where she's loved.
Concrete Angel.
There was one thing he had learned. It was how to stand firm. Life might throw shit at him, but he had learned to deal with it. He would just escape into a dream world, where everyone loved him, and his Uncle didn't exist. Whenever he was being punished, he would fly to that one happy place, and forget everything. The year had gone well, but e was going home today, and in his heart, he knew this was his final goodbye to Hogwarts. Something told him that he wouldn't be coming back.
Somebody cries in the middle of the night.
The neighbors hear, but they turn out the lights.
A fragile soul's caught in the hands of fate,
When morning comes it'll be too late.
"Severus?" Dumbledore said to his Potions Master.
"Albus." The man was curt as usual.
"The wards at Harry's house have gone off. I need you to check on him tomorrow morning."
"Fine."
Severus should have gone the moment the wards went off. He had a sinking feeling that something bad had happened as soon as the fat man opened the door.
"Mr. Dursley?" The man nodded. "I've come to check on Harry Potter."
"No one of that name lives here."
"Yes, he does, Dursley. Now let me in."
"The boy deserved everything he got." The man blustered.
"I doubt that," Severus snarled. "Now where is he?" Dursley pointed to a boot cupboard, and Severus stalked over. The smell of sweat, blood and semen hit his nostrils, and he gasped, horrified at the boy on the floor, who slowly opened his eyes.
"Professor?" He gasped out.
"It's me Potter, just hang in there. We'll get you to the hospital."
"I don't think that'll work, sir. It's too late." The boy was barely able to speak, and deep down, Severus knew the boy was right.
"I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do?"
"Just tell everyone I'm sorry." Snape nodded, and sunk down to his knees by the dying boy, to hold his hand. Harry's hand was cold, and Severus covered it with both his hands with a faint squeeze. "Thank you Professor."
"Of course." Harry smiled, and then with one small sigh, his breath stopped, and green eyes clouded over. Severus reached out with one hand, and slowly closed the lids over Lily's eyes, taking one last long look.
The statue stands in a shaded place.
An angel girl with an upturned face.
A name is written on a polished rock.
A broken heart that the world forgot.
Severus stood at the boy's grave after the huge funeral. It was a small grave, but a statue of an angel stood guarding it. The grave was simple, next to his parents, with his name, and the date of birth and death. The boy had been strong, but his silence had caught up to him.
"Oh Harry, and Lily, please forgive me." Snape whispered to the wind, and for just a moment, he could hear whispers in the breeze.
But through the wind and the rain
She stands hard as a stone
In a world that she can't rise above
But her dreams gives her wings,
And she flies to a places where she's loved.
Concrete Angel.