Author's Notes: I've been depressed lately, because not many people like my
stories. I doubt people will like this story, either. I mean, I seriously
doubt it. But jus' for the heck of it, I'm going to post it and wait and
see. This fic is a very up-in-the-air thing. Meaning, couples are undecided
and such. So since I also seriously doubt I'll ever post another chapter to
this story, you can vote on pairings.
*~*~*
Sometimes we hear a soft voice, sending a message of hope and endurance. Remember that angels are messengers from a place far beyond our own. When you feel lost, pause and look closely around you. Somewhere, somehow, an angel will be waiting to guide you home...
~~
That's especially what Harry tried to force his mind to concentrate upon that night. Too dark and damp and utterly dreary was it to see or move or hope. The path had long-since disappeared behind him. He sensed the dim hush closing in...
~~
Listen to an angel and they'll sing you a tune. But only when you listen closely...
~~
Suppose he wasn't to make it back to Hogwarts...? Suppose he was to die a lonely death amongst the trees of the Forbidden Forest? He couldn't safely assert that anyone would really miss him.
His brain steered to the reason for his midnight walk.
Why?
Why had everything gone so wrong? There wasn't a next year. Harry was in his seventh, and Hermione and Ron...
Well, if they were here, they would have been, too, Harry thought bitterly.
We had so little time, Harry reminisced wearily and shook his head. Often he wondered if those days had been but a dream. They seemed so long ago, now...
Was it merely yesterday that he had felt so good about life?
"You're a straight-A student, Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagal had said. "I expect even greater things from you come the end of term, and graduation."
The familiar lump in his throat swelled. He swallowed thickly.
Oh, God, he pleaded frantically into his mind, as the images of the following months flashed before his eyes, and he could distinguish most vividly one particular image: the wide, unseeing brown eyes, the feiry red hair contrasting intensely against the pale skin. He had taken in those eyes, that horrified expression.
He was staring at Ron.
"No!" he sobbed.
Hermione's equally insipid eyes, and her cold hand clutching Ron's in a frozen scene of what they must have appeared like when they died, haunted Harry's dreams.
The weight, colossal as it was, and however far Harry had been able to bear it, he could carry it no further. His stress abounding, and the facade worn for the past three months dissipating steadily, Harry crumbled.
Even though he was crying, he made efforts not to utter a sound. He felt the warm tears on his cheeks, but didn't brush them away.
~~
Bungling, blundering, feeling so alone, we struggle through some days only to find that when the fog has lifted we are just where we should be -- in the company of angels.
~~
She could comprehend his pain; she knew every part of him, inside and out. Struggling not to reach across the five-inch distance and touch his hand, she bit her tongue solemnly. If he realized she was here...
I can't let him realize, she thought grimly.
His lips quivered, an apparent confirmation of the awaiting tears. Then she saw Ron and Hermione through his eyes that day; she should have memorized it by now, because she'd seen it a thousand and one times, at least. Her heart twisted acknowledging this.
She experienced anew his desperation to not leave their sides, as clearly and as hopelessly as if it had been then; she experienced the hope -- already defeated yet resisting doom -- lingering in his heart that maybe...maybe Hermione and Ron were still alive.
Oh, Harry! she thought.
The mask he'd so cleverly upheld vanished instantaneously. The instinct to comfort her charge quadrupled. It was too fruitless a battle to fight. She couldn't resist her innate need to aid him...
~~
What though such winged hours of bliss have been like angel visits, few and far between...
~~
Just as Harry concluded his existence of no worth, there were soft fingertips on his chin, and the sound of ruffling wings. He glanced up.
Blue eyes.
Eyes he had seen somewhere before, eyes that were wet. The girl gazed into him, her and those clouded blue eyes, and for the first time in forever Harry felt safe. He observed the heartache -- the devotion which promised this girl's very being centered around his happiness -- there.
He'd just been thinking she seemed an angel. And a voice told him silently that she was an angel, his angel, come to rescue him.
"Who...?" Yet he didn't even finish the query; he didn't need words to be sure of exactly who and what she was...and her purpose.
All he whispered was, "You've come to save me?"
She smiled. It was a small one. Instead of bothering to answer, she gently cupped his face in her hands.
It's quite sweet to look into the fair and open face of Heaven, Harry thought. He swore her face was that of Heaven's, and that it said dearly: Serenity, my name is Serenity.
"...Serenity." The name was hoarse and hesitant.
Her vague shock flashed briefly in her eyes.
~~
An angel's love is like the sun, which, as we travel toward it, casts the shadow of our burden behind us...
~~
How...? How could he know her name? she wondered frantically. On a sudden impulse, she whirled to retreat the scene; she should have known better, anyway. She never should have confronted him. It was dangerous and the Heavenly Rules declared it a high-crime.
Racking her mind tempestuously and scorning her stupidity, the angel hadn't managed one step before a hand was at her elbow. This hand had no intention of releasing hold, either.
~~
Often times not a miracle, but just believing, takes the greatest faith of all...
~~
She couldn't leave! He couldn't allow her to be whisked from his life as swiftly as she had entered. The short minute and a half he'd spent with her compelled him, beyond any other hunch he'd ever had, beyond any sanity and logic, to trust that she was his true guardian angel.
His desperation for a light at the end of the hallway overshadowed his doubt besides.
She had to stay with him. He saw Hermione's intelligence and Ron's strength in her...
~~
The presence of angels is like a snowflake lightly touching you with its special gift, then evaporating into your warmth as you hurry on your way...
~~
"Please," he croaked. She watched his tears glisten in the pale moonlight. "please, don't...go."
Every guardian angel beneath Heaven's infinite grace shares a common bond with their charge. Every angel is born, and in turn the love for their assigned charge is born within them. This love is so absolute, an angel will follow his or her charge to the bowels of hell and stand parallel to death for them.
Now, Serenity dared to stand parallel to Heaven for Harry. She dared to forsake her friends and all else of importance. Yet somehow she felt she would be making a much bigger mistake, and forsaking an even more important cause, if she did not choose to remain.
She closed her eyes, hoping to dispel the heavy sense of fear-filled isolation that was threatening to overwhelm her. Her heart was pounding something fierce.
She searched Harry's eyes for a while; she wasn't positive as to what she was searching for, but whatever it was, she found it. She had made her dicision.
She felt the boy slump against her. Startled, she averted sight downward to view the top of Harry's raven head.
Harry...
The waves of remembrance, and the agony and difficulty of the past few months must have finally gotten to him, she thought woefully.
She was facing yet another decision: how to get him back to Hogwarts.
She glanced at her pearly-white wings, and smiled. A split-second later and she had enfolded him with the wondrous appendages. Her arms tied firmly round his waist, she lifted from the ground with almost sprite-like poise.
~~
In your deepest distress you are often covered by angel's wings on every side...
~*~*~
AN: Well, there ya' have it, folks. If you even liked it a teensy-weensy bit, please tell me.
Arigato
*~*~*
Sometimes we hear a soft voice, sending a message of hope and endurance. Remember that angels are messengers from a place far beyond our own. When you feel lost, pause and look closely around you. Somewhere, somehow, an angel will be waiting to guide you home...
~~
That's especially what Harry tried to force his mind to concentrate upon that night. Too dark and damp and utterly dreary was it to see or move or hope. The path had long-since disappeared behind him. He sensed the dim hush closing in...
~~
Listen to an angel and they'll sing you a tune. But only when you listen closely...
~~
Suppose he wasn't to make it back to Hogwarts...? Suppose he was to die a lonely death amongst the trees of the Forbidden Forest? He couldn't safely assert that anyone would really miss him.
His brain steered to the reason for his midnight walk.
Why?
Why had everything gone so wrong? There wasn't a next year. Harry was in his seventh, and Hermione and Ron...
Well, if they were here, they would have been, too, Harry thought bitterly.
We had so little time, Harry reminisced wearily and shook his head. Often he wondered if those days had been but a dream. They seemed so long ago, now...
Was it merely yesterday that he had felt so good about life?
"You're a straight-A student, Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagal had said. "I expect even greater things from you come the end of term, and graduation."
The familiar lump in his throat swelled. He swallowed thickly.
Oh, God, he pleaded frantically into his mind, as the images of the following months flashed before his eyes, and he could distinguish most vividly one particular image: the wide, unseeing brown eyes, the feiry red hair contrasting intensely against the pale skin. He had taken in those eyes, that horrified expression.
He was staring at Ron.
"No!" he sobbed.
Hermione's equally insipid eyes, and her cold hand clutching Ron's in a frozen scene of what they must have appeared like when they died, haunted Harry's dreams.
The weight, colossal as it was, and however far Harry had been able to bear it, he could carry it no further. His stress abounding, and the facade worn for the past three months dissipating steadily, Harry crumbled.
Even though he was crying, he made efforts not to utter a sound. He felt the warm tears on his cheeks, but didn't brush them away.
~~
Bungling, blundering, feeling so alone, we struggle through some days only to find that when the fog has lifted we are just where we should be -- in the company of angels.
~~
She could comprehend his pain; she knew every part of him, inside and out. Struggling not to reach across the five-inch distance and touch his hand, she bit her tongue solemnly. If he realized she was here...
I can't let him realize, she thought grimly.
His lips quivered, an apparent confirmation of the awaiting tears. Then she saw Ron and Hermione through his eyes that day; she should have memorized it by now, because she'd seen it a thousand and one times, at least. Her heart twisted acknowledging this.
She experienced anew his desperation to not leave their sides, as clearly and as hopelessly as if it had been then; she experienced the hope -- already defeated yet resisting doom -- lingering in his heart that maybe...maybe Hermione and Ron were still alive.
Oh, Harry! she thought.
The mask he'd so cleverly upheld vanished instantaneously. The instinct to comfort her charge quadrupled. It was too fruitless a battle to fight. She couldn't resist her innate need to aid him...
~~
What though such winged hours of bliss have been like angel visits, few and far between...
~~
Just as Harry concluded his existence of no worth, there were soft fingertips on his chin, and the sound of ruffling wings. He glanced up.
Blue eyes.
Eyes he had seen somewhere before, eyes that were wet. The girl gazed into him, her and those clouded blue eyes, and for the first time in forever Harry felt safe. He observed the heartache -- the devotion which promised this girl's very being centered around his happiness -- there.
He'd just been thinking she seemed an angel. And a voice told him silently that she was an angel, his angel, come to rescue him.
"Who...?" Yet he didn't even finish the query; he didn't need words to be sure of exactly who and what she was...and her purpose.
All he whispered was, "You've come to save me?"
She smiled. It was a small one. Instead of bothering to answer, she gently cupped his face in her hands.
It's quite sweet to look into the fair and open face of Heaven, Harry thought. He swore her face was that of Heaven's, and that it said dearly: Serenity, my name is Serenity.
"...Serenity." The name was hoarse and hesitant.
Her vague shock flashed briefly in her eyes.
~~
An angel's love is like the sun, which, as we travel toward it, casts the shadow of our burden behind us...
~~
How...? How could he know her name? she wondered frantically. On a sudden impulse, she whirled to retreat the scene; she should have known better, anyway. She never should have confronted him. It was dangerous and the Heavenly Rules declared it a high-crime.
Racking her mind tempestuously and scorning her stupidity, the angel hadn't managed one step before a hand was at her elbow. This hand had no intention of releasing hold, either.
~~
Often times not a miracle, but just believing, takes the greatest faith of all...
~~
She couldn't leave! He couldn't allow her to be whisked from his life as swiftly as she had entered. The short minute and a half he'd spent with her compelled him, beyond any other hunch he'd ever had, beyond any sanity and logic, to trust that she was his true guardian angel.
His desperation for a light at the end of the hallway overshadowed his doubt besides.
She had to stay with him. He saw Hermione's intelligence and Ron's strength in her...
~~
The presence of angels is like a snowflake lightly touching you with its special gift, then evaporating into your warmth as you hurry on your way...
~~
"Please," he croaked. She watched his tears glisten in the pale moonlight. "please, don't...go."
Every guardian angel beneath Heaven's infinite grace shares a common bond with their charge. Every angel is born, and in turn the love for their assigned charge is born within them. This love is so absolute, an angel will follow his or her charge to the bowels of hell and stand parallel to death for them.
Now, Serenity dared to stand parallel to Heaven for Harry. She dared to forsake her friends and all else of importance. Yet somehow she felt she would be making a much bigger mistake, and forsaking an even more important cause, if she did not choose to remain.
She closed her eyes, hoping to dispel the heavy sense of fear-filled isolation that was threatening to overwhelm her. Her heart was pounding something fierce.
She searched Harry's eyes for a while; she wasn't positive as to what she was searching for, but whatever it was, she found it. She had made her dicision.
She felt the boy slump against her. Startled, she averted sight downward to view the top of Harry's raven head.
Harry...
The waves of remembrance, and the agony and difficulty of the past few months must have finally gotten to him, she thought woefully.
She was facing yet another decision: how to get him back to Hogwarts.
She glanced at her pearly-white wings, and smiled. A split-second later and she had enfolded him with the wondrous appendages. Her arms tied firmly round his waist, she lifted from the ground with almost sprite-like poise.
~~
In your deepest distress you are often covered by angel's wings on every side...
~*~*~
AN: Well, there ya' have it, folks. If you even liked it a teensy-weensy bit, please tell me.
Arigato